The Trial
by owlfactory
Summary: "The letters arrived on a Sunday morning...their names are on the front of the envelopes, carefully written in the finest black ink." -The war is over, but the trial of the century is about to begin: the trial of the Malfoy family. When Mrs Malfoy makes a request of Harry, a witness for the Ministry, she puts the trio in a difficult situation.
1. Chapter 1

_September, 1998_.

At night she dreamt of the past. The dreams come to her in a jumbled, scattered fashion; she's never sure why she's recalling one memory or the other. Sometimes the dreams are blurry; it feels like she's viewing the memories through frosted glass. On other nights the dreams feel so real that she feels like she's right there; she can almost reach out and touch the figures in the dream, smell her surroundings.

She dreams of many people: her son, her husband, her mother. More often than not, she dreams of her father.

She is five. Her father is telling her about the sacred twenty-eight. He is explaining about the House of Black. It's a great House; one of the purest in the land. The first witch Queen, Elizabeth Woodville, once considered the family her greatest allies. They are better than the other families. Greater.

She is seven and her father is worried. The muggles are going to war with one another. They've developed weapons that could wipe out the wizarding world. For the first time in their lives, wizards and witches are running scared of muggles. The Ministry doesn't know if they can survive if war breaks out. There is talk of using magic to manipulate the muggles. Her father wants to take the Muggles down; they are weak, useless, pathetic creatures. She agrees with him. He pats her head and smiles at her.

She is twelve. All the children in Slytherin want to be her friend. She is a Black; her reputation precedes her. She doesn't have to be nice to make people like her. They like her anyway. She is respected, revered.

She is nineteen. She is getting married. Narcissa thanks her lucky stars that she loves her fiancé. Lucius cares for her. He loves her for who she is. She isn't going to be unhappy like her sister, pushed into marrying a man she doesn't like.

Her father is fixing the flower in her hair. His dark eyes, always cold, fix her with a hard stare.

"I'm proud of you," he tells her. "You've always been a head above Bella. You're accepting this marriage with grace and pride. You mother would have been proud."

She blinks back tears. Her mother died a month ago. The wedding dress she is wearing belonged to her.

"I once thought my daughters would never make me proud," her father's mouth is set in an angry line. "Bella's refusal to accept her situation has been a national embarrassment. She has conducted herself in a way that is not benefitting of a Black."

Narcissa notes that he doesn't mention his other daughter; her sister, Andromeda. He acts like she is dead to him.

"You, Narcissa, have not only made a better match than Bella but you behave as any daughter of mine should."

She feels so proud. She has always been her father's favourite daughter. Bellatrix had never accepted their father's rules. Andromeda had always been headstrong, bossy and obnoxious.

"It's traditional for a man to give his daughter advice on her wedding day. So here is mine to you: you can fix a nose bleed, you can fix a broken bone. You can't fix a broken reputation. You can put some of it back together, but it will never be whole again. A broken reputation lingers on, even after death. The family name rests on you now. Don't let me down."

Narcissa thinks of these words as she lies in her cell. She stares round at the four walls that have become her home and wonders what her father would think if he could see her now. The walls and floor of the cell are made of hard stone; it feels like she's in a tomb. Sometimes she runs her hands over the walls just to remind herself that she is alive.

Her room consists of a single bed, a desk, a bookcase and candle. The books are the only thing keeping her sane; that and the copy of the Daily Prophet that's delivered to her cell every day. She dreams of being able to go outside, to feel the air on her face and run her hands over the grass in her front garden.

She is alone often. Her Advocate visits once a week. Muldover, the Aurour appointed to look after the cells, comes in once a day to take her to the food hall. Narcissa looks forward to this activity the most. It's the one hour a day that she can spend with her son and husband.

How the mighty have fallen, Narcissa thinks, staring at herself in the small mirror in the corner of her room. Her face is gaunt and pale. Her skin is dry and dehydrated. Her long, blonde hair is lank and dull. She is a different woman now.

Her father's words still resonate with her. As Narcissa lies in bed at night and listens to the catcalls of her fellow prisoners, she thinks of her family's reputation. She imagines the whispers and rumours that are currently circulating among the wizarding population. She thinks about the witches she used to meet with every Friday; they are probably gossiping about her over tea and cocktails; she won't be invited into their circle again. Her eyes pour over the column inches given to her, her husband and her son in the Daily Prophet.

'The family name rests on you now.'

Yes, thinks Narcissa, yes it does. She is the only one left. There is nobody else. She is surprised at how easily the burden falls upon her. This is something Bellatrix could never have shouldered. It's why her father always placed her above her sisters.

The next day her Advocate calls for her, she tells him her plan.

His face flushes. He looks surprised.

"I...I would advise against this," he splutter.s "If you're caught; if anybody sees you..."

She'd gives him a sardonic smile. "It's not like I have anything to lose, is it?"

He nods. He promises to make the necessary enquiries for her.

She smiles when she reads the Daily Prophet the next day. There he is, right there on the front page: Harry Potter. The boy who lived has been photographed saying goodbye to his girlfriend at King's Cross. The photo of him is not a flattering one; he looks irritated at being photographed. The report that accompanies the photo states that he ignored the Prophet journalist and asked to be left alone. Narcissa notes how thin he looks, how pained his face is. It was reported in the papers few weeks ago that Potter wasn't returning to Hogwarts, that he is spending time with the Weasley family. He's currently unemployed.

Narcissa never could have imagined that her family's name and reputation would depend upon Harry Potter. It's his fault her family are in this situation in the first place.

Narcissa hopes Harry Potter isn't naïve. She hopes he didn't think that he could walk out of this war alive and not have to pay his debt to the woman who saved his life.

Narcissa is going to save her family, and Harry Potter is going to help her. If he doesn't, Narcissa knows her family have no way out.

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	2. Chapter 2

_Hello everyone :) I've had the idea for this story in my head for a long time. It hasn't been easy getting my thoughts on paper, so I hope it all makes sense. I know how I want this story to pan out but I may veer off course if something isn't working. This chapter is very long. I had intended to split it up into different chapters but I think it works better the way it is. Please read and review :) _

_Content warning for mentions of anxiety, depression and one implied mention of rape. _

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_"Right is right, even is everyone is against it. Wrong is wrong even if everyone is for it." William Penn_

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_Monday 20th October 1998_

The letters arrived on a Sunday morning. The owls carried them in brown envelopes stamped with the Ministry seal. Their names are on the front of the envelopes, carefully written in the finest black ink.

Harry is first to see them. The letters land in his lap as he drinks his coffee in the early morning light. Nobody else is up. He's been sitting down in the kitchen for hours. He couldn't sleep last night.

He picks up the letter addressed to him and opens it.

_20th October 1998_

_'Dear Mr Potter,_

_RE: NOTICE OF SUMMONS_

_You are hereby summoned to attended a hearing on the 1st December 1998 to give evidence in the matter of M v Malfoy (Draco) M v Malfoy (Narcissa) and M v Malfoy (Lucius). You are being called as a witness for the prosecution._

_We enclose two attachments to this letter: A leaflet entitled "The Magical Reform Act and Me" and a list of available Advocates._

_With reference to the Magical (Law) Reform Act 1998, the evidence you will be required to give at trial must be codified and condensed into a statement. This statement will be taken from you by a Ministry appointed Advocate on a date to be determined. You are entitled to have your own Advocate at this meeting._

_At the hearing you will be questioned by both the prosecuting and defending counsel._

_Please bring proof of you identity with you and be ready to submit your wand for assessment._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Tobias Ragnock_

_Magical Department of Law Enforcement_

Harry set the letter down and stared out of the window. The sun was slowly coming up between the clouds. It was going to be a glorious day.

Harry has received many summonses over the course of the summer, each asking him to attend a hearing or to give evidence in some matter of another. This hearing, this particular summons, has been on the back of his mind since he spoke to an Aurour in May. He has dreaded this. He hadn't expected the letters to arrive so soon.

His eyes glance down towards the other letter on the table; it is addressed to Ron. Harry guesses that the other letter is on its way to Hogwarts, waiting for Hermione when she wakes up this morning.

He drinks a bit of his coffee. There is a burning feeling in his throat that has nothing to do with the heat of his drink. Something akin to panic settles in his stomach and knots itself around his insides.

Bill is up first, as he always is. He ambles into the kitchen after sunrise in his work robes looking tired. Harry hands him the letters without a word. Bill reads Harry's letter and sinks into a chair wordlessly. He put his head into one of his hands, closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath.

'What are we going to do?' Harry asks him.

Bill has never been directly told what happened at Malfoy Manor, but he knows. Bill figured out that Hermione had been tortured; Harry knows he talked to Ollivander when he was at Shell Cottage. Apart from his wife, he's the only person who can possibly imagine the horror this trial will bring.

Harry seeks Bill's advice, he needs it. He feels helpless.

Bill is silent for a moment, his eyes still closed. When he opens them he runs his fingers over the letter addressed to Ron.

'We have to tell him first thing this morning.' He says solemnly 'Nothing more to it than that.' He slumps back in his chair and stares at the kitchen wall looking anguished.

They are silent for a few minutes, both men thinking about the ramifications of the court trial. They don't have to put into words how awful this is.

Bill looks at him. He glances down at the letters and then back up at Harry.

"You know we're going to have to tell them at some point," he said quietly, "They have to know."

By 'them' he means the other Weasleys. The family don't know about Shell Cottage or Malfoy Manor. Harry hasn't even told Ginny.

Harry nods at Bill's words. He knew the family would have to be told at some point, but had hoped it wouldn't happen for a long time.

Harry runs his hands through his hair so that it sticks up at the front. He gets up to make more coffee. Bill sits in silence; he stares at the wall in front of him, deep in thought.

The trial will be front page news of the Prophet; the paper has been speculating for months about the trial start date. Harry remembers dully that Mr Weasley himself had expressed excitement at the prospect of the trial."All the dirty laundry will be out in the open!" he'd exclaimed one dinner time, unable to hide the grin off his face. Mrs Weasley had nodded at his words in agreement.

Harry knows Mr & Mrs Weasley will be less excited about the trial when they realise that their youngest son will have to give evidence.

As Harry gets the cups out of the cupboard he thinks about how the entire Weasley family are going to react to some of the evidence he, Ron and Hermione are going to have to give. Harry knows he will be asked to talk about other incidents involving the Malfoys: the night Dumbledore died, what happened in the Room of Requirement...

Harry closes his eyes. His heart is thudding against his chest. His hand shakes as he pours milk into his coffee cup.

Nobody apart from Ron and Hermione really know what happened during these incidents. Now, the entire world will know.

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Ron is blinded by the sun when he wakes up. He swears quietly under his breath and rubs his eyes. He pushes his bed covers away from him with his feet.

For a few minutes he stares up at the ceiling through bleary eyes. His body feels heavy, his eyes are sore from tiredness. He wishes he could sleep in for another hour. His father hadn't been wrong when he'd warned him that the daily routine of 9-5 was hard to get used to.

He jumps out of bed after a few minutes and glances at his watch. It is 8:50. He's supposed to be in work in ten minutes.

"_Shit!"_

Ron throws off his pyjamas with a flourish, pulls on some clean underpants and throws on his work clothes haphazardly. He grabs his wand and turns on the spot to apparate. At that moment, Harry walks into the room. There's a serious look on his face. His eyes widen in horror at the sight of Ron.

"Ron, wait-"

It's too late. He's gone.

Ron lands a few seconds later in the middle of Diagon Alley. The street is full of early morning shoppers. Some of them shout in shock when Ron materialises in front of them. One women openly laughs at his appearance.

Ron doesn't give a damn what anyone thinks of him. He's going to be late for work and George is going to kill him. He bolts up the street towards the joke shop. He's sure the other shop owners are laughing at him as he sprints up the alley.

Ron wonders what Harry wanted to talk about. He pushes it to the back of his mind. If it's important Harry will owl him.

He curses himself for staying up late the night before. He spent most of last night writing a letter to Hermione. Since she's at Hogwarts and he's at the Burrow they write long, lovely letters to one another to make up for the fact that they can't be together. Harry and George usually mime vomiting every time Hermione's letters arrive because the sight of her owl makes him grin like an idiot.

When Hermione writes she tells him about her classes, how Ginny is getting on, the gossip in the castle, her prefect duties and how much studying she's doing. Occasionally she drops in how much she's 'gaining from doing her NEWTs' as a subtle hint that he should have come back to school with her. Ron misses her terribly.

Ron reaches the shop and immediately panics. There are already people standing outside; the place is buzzing with activity. A large group of people are peering excitedly through the windows, gazing at the various toys that hang in the shop display.

Ron's heart sinks. George must have opened the shop early. He's definitely in trouble now.

One of the customers spots him. He lets out a yell of delight and gestures to the person next to him.

"It's him! It's him!" the man shouts, delight in his voice, "Its Ron Weasley!"

The large group of customers turn around en masse to face him. They are all clutching cameras and notebooks. They aren't customers, they're journalists.

Oh hell no, thinks Ron.

Ron gapes at the reporters as they hurry towards him. They shove cameras and wands in his face.

"Mr Weasley, a few questions please?"

"Ron! Ron, how do you feel?!"

"Do you have a few minutes to sit down for an interview Ron?"

Ron's mouth drops open as he stares at the reporters ( god love them,he hasn't brushed his teeth). They're gazing at him like he's a wonderful object. Their smiles are wide and insincere. Someone takes a photo of him and he yells as the flash blinds him.

Ron has nearly gotten used to the attention he's received since the war ended. He, Hermione and Harry have been hailed as heroes in the wake of the Battle of Hogwarts. His name is plastered all over the newspapers on a regular basis. Reporters have disguised themselves as shrubs and trees and followed him home from work. He and Hermione have been ambushed by journalists on dates. A few weeks ago he, Harry and Bill were harassed by a reporter when they went out for a drink; Bill got so angry that he threatened to hit the reporter. Journalists have pestered his dad in work; they harass his mother when she doe her shopping in the Alley.

Ron has never been attacked by a scrum of reporters before, he's not Harry. Harry gets swarmed with reporters everywhere he goes. He even got ambushed when he went to take a drunken piss up against a wall on a night out with Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville. T_hat_ had made the papers the next day. Ginny had laughed for an hour when she heard the news.

"Ron! How does Hermione feel about this?"

"How does Harry feel about this?"

"What's Hermione going to wear?"

"I...I..." Ron is stumped. What on earth are the reporters doing here? Why are they are they asking him questions?

"Get out of the way! If you don't get out of the way I'm going to hex your balls off. I said _move_."

Somebody is pushing their way through the crowd of reporters,who are letting out noises of protest. George appears a few seconds later looking simply furious. He is glares at the reporters as he pushes past them to stand in front of Ron.

"George!"

"George!"

The reporters turn their attention towards his brother. The cameraman start to take photos, the other reporters begin to fire questions at him:

"George, how do you feel?"

"George, are you worried for your little brother?"

"George, have you spoken to Harry Potter?"

George rolls his eyes and grabs Ron by the arm without a word. He drags him through the reporters towards the door of the shop. The reporters hurry after them. There are more camera flashes, more questions shouted after them.

George hurriedly pushes the front door of the shop open . He stands back against it to let Ron enter. "Get in," he says in a harsh voice. He doesn't look at Ron; his eyes are fixed on the media scrum. Ron darts into the shop without a word. The journalists shout questions after him.

George slams the door behind Ron muttering, 'bellends' in a furious voice.

Ron turns to face his brother with a shocked expression on his face. He can still hear the reporters outside; they are shouting through the windows of the shop, their cameras are still flashing.

George points his wand at the windows with a bored expression on his face. The shutters of the shop fall down over the windows. The reporters let out noises of disappointment and anger.

"_What the hell was that?!"_ he cried.

Ron is shaking. He feels tired and slightly disoriented. He is still recovering from having woken up more than 15 minutes ago. He has a dull headache and his mouth feels as dry as a doxy's nest.

"They literally came at me as I was running up the road! Swarmed around me like bloody...I don't know, something swarm like. Do you OUCH!"

George quite calmly walks up to him and smacks him around the head. It hurts. Ron rubs his head and glares at his brother angrily. George's looks amused. He walks past Ron to stand behind the counter of the shop.

"That's for being late, " George tells Ron.

Ron gapes at him in outrage.

"Late? Not my bloody fault I was..."

"Nobody cares," George said nonchalantly, cutting him off mid sentence.

"But..."

"You and I are going to make a lovely front page spread in the Prophet tonight," George said to him conversationally, talking over him. "Mind you," he looks Ron up and down, "At least I don't look a hobo."

"What?"

"Look in the mirror."

Ron turns and stares at the mirror that hangs on the wall beside the make up stand. His hair is sticking up in all directions, there are black rings around his eyes and his face is pale, gaunt and thin, a lingering reminder of the Horcrux hunt.

"Merlin," said Ron, "Mum'll freak." He looks down at his outfit. He is wearing a blue shirt that isn't buttoned property, the fly in his jeans is open. The jeans themselves are too short and he is wearing odd socks underneath. He's going to look like a right mess in the papers tomorrow.

"Fabulous," he said in a dry voice.

George smirks at Ron. He leans against the counter and folds his arms.

Ron fixes his shirt and flies and glances back outside the shop. He can still hear a low rumble of voices.

"What on earth was that about?" Ron asks his brother. "They ambushed me. I've never seen anything like it."

George frowns at Ron. He looks confused.

"You don't know?"

"Know what?"

George squints at Ron suspiciously. It's almost as if he doesn't believe him.

"What, George?" Ron asks impatiently. George frowns at him and bends down behind the counter. He stands up holding a newspaper. He holds it out wordlessly to Ron.

Ron takes the newspaper, opens it and stares down at the front page.

"MALFOY TRIAL SET FOR 1ST DECEMBER. HARRY POTTER, RON WEASLEY AND HERMIONE GRANGER STAR WITNESSES FOR THE MINISTRY."

No, that can't be right.

He blinks rapidly. He reads the headline for the second time.

"MALFOY TRIAL SET FOR 1ST DECEMBER. HARRY POTTER, RON WEASLEY AND HERMIONE GRANGER STAR WITNESSES FOR THE MINISTRY."

All Ron can feel as a horrible mixture of shock coupled with grim acknowledgement. He stares at the headline with wide eyes. His breath is shallow and slow. His hands shake as they grip the paper. He feels numb.

Too many questions fill his head. He can only think about two people: Harry and Hermione.

Harry. Ron remembers the way his best friend called out to him before he apparated. He must have found out about the trial this morning.

Ron looks up at George. His brother is staring at him with a worried look on his face. There is something else in his expression as well: apprehension, fear, confusion.

"Cup of tea?" George asked.

Ron nods silently, gratefully. His heart is thudding in his chest. His brain is buzzing.

George goes into the little kitchen at the back of the shop. Ron follows him. He clutches the newspaper tightly with his hands.

He takes a seat at the little table in the corner of the kitchen. He sets the paper down in front of him and stares at the front page again, taking in all the words. His hands are still shaking; he places them on top of each-other comfortingly. His leg starts to jitter nervously. He feels a horrible mixture of nervousness, panic and nausea; the sicky feeling you get before an exam.

George sets a steaming cup of tea down in front of him and takes the chair opposite. There is silence for a couple of minutes.

Ron looks up at his brother. He's sipping his tea and watching him with a concerned look on his face.

"Not what you were expecting to read this morning?" George said wryly.

"You could say that," said Ron.

George grimaces at him sympathetically.

Ron leans back in his chair and sighs. He thinks about all the witches and wizards across the UK who'll be reading the Prophet when they wake up this morning. The trial will be the hot topic of conversation in every wizarding household.

He can't stop thinking about his friends. His heart sinks when he thinks about Hermione; she's at Hogwarts on her own. News of the trial will spread around the school like wildfire; she won't be able to escape the gossip. Harry will be in the spotlight even more than he already is, if that were possible. This is the last thing he needs.

Ron can't believe the trial has been listed so early. The Ministry is in such chaos these days that it's hard to imagine anybody getting round to organising a high profile criminal trial. The chaos is somewhat understandable, the entire institution is being built from the ground up, but it's got the stage where people on the street are getting fed up. The Prophet and The Quibbler have published opinion pieces for weeks on how the Ministry is disorganised and unable to cope.

Anger ripples though Ron as he wonders whether the Malfoy trial has been brought forward as some sort of publicity stunt for the Ministry. It would be great PR for them, Ron thinks darkly, getting Harry Potter and his friends to come as star witnesses for the Ministry in a trial against the most high profile wizarding family in Britain.

Ron glares at the front page of the Prophet and thinks of Kingsley, still the acting Minister for Magic. Ron had always considered Kingsley to be a friend. Surely he wouldn't have let the Ministry get away with this?

Ron's thinks grimly of Hermione. He thinks of her having to give evidence in front of hundreds of people and reporters, being interrogated by the Ministry's new Advocates about her torture. He feels ill.

Ron knows he, Harry and Hermione will have to talk about their night at Malfoy Manor. It's one of the reasons he and Hermione have been called as witnesses.

Ron thinks of Hermione, he remembers how much she suffered at the hand of Bellatrix Lestrange. Since the end of the war she has suffered anxiety attacks, bouts of depression and anguish. Ron and Harry have spent many nights looking after her, caring for her and comforting her when it all becomes too much.

It's not just Hermione though. Harry suffers because of the war too. He has trouble sleeping; he has down days when he doesn't talk much. Sometimes he and Ron spend nights playing chess in silence.

Ron knows he has his own invisible scars. Sometimes he feels like crawling into his bed and not talking to anyone. He feels on edge. Anxious.

Ron glances at George. His brother is watching him with a frown on his face. He opens his mouth hesitantly; there is a question on his lips. Ron already knows what it is.

"Why are you being called as witness in the Malfoy trial?" George asked, "Harry I can understand, but you and Hermione..."

"It's...complicated."

George blanches and frowns at him. His eyes search Ron's face quizzically. He reminds Ron of their mother, she used to look at him like that when he was little, when she was trying to figure out what mischief he'd been up to.

"Why is it complicated?"

Ron looks away. He stares at the wall on the other side of the kitchen. He doesn't feel like talking now. He doesn't think he can cope.

"It just is. Look," he said when George raised his eyebrows, "I'm going to tell you but not now. OK?"

George looks as if he wants to argue with him. After a moment he seems to relent. He nods at Ron solemnly.

"OK," he said, "But you have to promise to tell me soon."

"I will," Ron said with earnest. He means it.

George gives him a soft smile. Ron knows he understands.

George and Ron have become close these past few months. Ron has always been close to his brothers, but not like this.

After the battle, depression settled over George like a cloud. It enveloped him. In the weeks after the war, he spent most of his time in his room. He didn't eat, he didn't speak to anyone but his parents. Ron often heard George crying in his room with his father. George told him later that he'd felt like the world was grey, devoid of any happiness. He said he'd only felt able to talk to their parents because they were suffering just as much as he was.

One awful day after Fred's funeral Ron left the Burrow without notice. He apparated to London, walked around for a few hours and found himself at the shop. He'd found Verity there helping customers and managing the shop on her own. The store had been packed with customers. Verity had looked stressed and upset.

"Ron!"

She'd looked shocked to see him there.

"Need help?" he'd asked.

Verity had looked stunned. She had looked up into his face (which, at that time, was more gaunt than it was now) and looked uncertain.

"I really want to help."

Perhaps it was the desperate tone of his voice, maybe she felt sorry for him, she'd said yes and ordered him to help behind the till.

Over the next few weeks all the Weasley children had all come down to help with the shop: Bill helped Verity with the accounts, Charlie helped carry large boxes of merchandise out of the store-room, Ginny helped behind the till, Percy helped young children pick out the toy or joke they wanted from the shelves. Harry and Hermione had helped too; Harry working on the shop floor until his presence started to attract an unmanageable crowd. Hermione had helped with the stock take, carefully making a note of every single item the Twins had stocked in their store-room. All the Weasleys had helped, all them deferring to Ron for leadership and guidance.

Although those few weeks were full of sadness, Ron looked back on them fondly. For for the first time since the war, he'd felt like he was doing some good. Not only did he enjoying running the shop, _he was good at it._ He was a good leader. He knew how to deal with customers; he was good at selling things. He knew what items would sell and what wouldn't.

George had turned up at the shop two months after the battle. He had looked surprised to see the shop running smoothly; maybe he'd expected the shop to be closed. Ron had been shocked to see George so soon. Bill had confided to Ron a few weeks earlier that George's depression was getting worse;their mother was sending him to her Healer for help.

Nonetheless, there George had stood that day, staring around at the shop and looking like he'd just woken up after a very long rest. Ron hadn't known what to say. Ginny, who'd been helping behind the till, had looked helpless.

George had started to work at the shop again that day. Without a word he had gone behind the till and helped Ginny. After that, he'd helped Ron to restock the shelves. It was as if the previous weeks hadn't happened.

When business closed for the day, Ron had made George a cup of tea as he stood and counted the day's takings. When he'd set the cup of tea on the table, his brother had grabbed his hand and gripped it tightly.

"Thank you," was all George had said to him.

"No problem," Ron had replied.

And that was it. That was all they'd said to one another.

George had come back to work fulltime at the shop since then. He and Ron worked together to run the business. The shop was still Fred and George's but to Ron it almost felt like it was his business too. George trusted him; valued his opinions. They did the stock take together, they talked about which products to sell, which products to develop and how to keep their overheads down. George often took his ideas on board. They were partners.

As time went on, Ron felt like he was getting to know George for the first time in his life. Sometimes, after doing the stock take, they would sit, drink butterbeer and talk about nothing in particular. George told Ron stories from Hogwarts, funny stories that he had never heard before. He talked about his past girlfriends, silly stuff Percy done when he started Hogwarts, funny things he got up to when he was in first year.

One day, George started to talk about Fred. Ron didn't said anything, he let his brother talk about his twin while he sat in silence. Apart from their parents, Ron was the only person George spoke to about Fred.

Fred's death had changed George. He would never be the person he used to be, but Ron was OK with that. His brother had bad days; days when he wouldn't get out of bed and Ron and Verity had to look after the shop by themselves, but he was getting better. A sparkle was starting to return to his eyes. He cracked jokes nowadays; his favourite activity was winding Ron up. He had started to go out with his friends again: Angelina, Alicia, Lee and Oliver. The sight of his brother getting better made Ron's heart well.

"I don't think we should be here today," George told Ron. "The press aren't going to leave us alone. We should go home. Verity's more than capable of managing by herself. I'll leave her a message."

"I'll owl mum, let her know we're coming home."

As he went to get a paper and quill, George spoke to him again.

"Ron?"

"Yes?"

George stared at him. There was a fierce look in his eyes.

"Everything's going to be OK," George told him. "I don't know what's going on, but you've got me, OK?"

Ron smiled. He felt slightly embarrassed at George's candour but his brother's face was set.

"I know," he said. George winked at him and went back into the shop.

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Her four poster bed is covered in papers: essays, feedback sheets, marking sheets. Hermione picks up one item, a History of Magic essay, and stares down at the writing at the bottom of the page: _A-Acceptable_. Blinking back tears, she picks up another sheet of parchment-_Charms, D_.

Hermione chokes back a sob and angrily throws her essays to the end of her bed. She can't bear to look at them anymore. Her professors' comments, their grades, are inscribed on her brain. Tears drip from her eyes and trickle down her cheeks. She's glad the dormitory is empty. If Ginny, Demzela and the other girls were here they'd ask questions.

Hermione can't bear the thought of telling anyone about her grades. The idea of anyone knowing makes her chest tighten and her heart race. She doesn't want anyone to find out her secret: that she's not the genius they think she is, that she's actually stupid; stupid and woefully inadequate.

Hermione's parents are high achievers; her mother went to Oxford; her father to Kings College London. Her parents manage their own dental practises. Her mother submits academic papers on dentistry to medical journals. Her father is often interviewed by the BBC on the subject of dentistry.

Hermione doesn't blame her parents for her desire to overachieve; she blames the people she went to school with. She was never the most popular girl in school. She was never the first one picked for netball or hockey. She had always sat on her own at lunchtime, her only friends the books she brought into school. Her nickname had been 'smarty pants' 'and 'buck toothed Granger.' She was known as the ugly girl in her class at school, the one everyone would pick on.

The kids at her school could call her ugly, obnoxious and boring, but they could never call her stupid. 'Hermione Granger's horrible,' they would say, 'but she's a genius.'

Hermione clung to these statements throughout her school years. She didn't have looks, she didn't have a sparkling personality, but she, apparently, had a brain. She wasn't ugly, obnoxious and stupid-a combination society deemed fatal to a woman (men, she thought angrily, can get away with being all three).

As a child Hermione knew that without her brain she was nothing. She knew that if she wasn't the smartest person in the room her true self would come through, her pathetic, inadequate self.

Hermione Granger's biggest secret is that she has always thought of herself as stupid. Everytime she does well in a test or an essay she thinks it's a fluke ,a mistake. Her biggest fear is that somebody will figure out that she doesn't deserve to be called 'the brightest witch of her age' and send her packing. It's called 'imposter syndrome.'

Tears trickle down Hermione's face as she stares at her essays. Her marks confirm what she has always feared. Her time as the smartest person in the room is gone, she's been busted. Ginny got a higher mark than her in her essay. So did Demzela.

Hermione hasn't felt the same since she came back to Hogwarts. She feels restless, devoid of any energy or motivation. It's like somebody has taken her batteries out; all she wants to do is sleep. She smiles when Ginny and Neville drag her off to parties or convince her to spend time in the three broomsticks but inside she feels empty, devoid of enthusiasm.

She knows why she got an A in History of Magic. Despite the essay being set at the start of term, she'd finished it at the last minute. She'd sat down during the first week of term, fully intending to finish the assignment off; instead, she'd sat at her desk and stared into space for the better part of an hour.

It's not just essays and homework; since she started back at Hogwarts she's been operating at 50%. She can't find any enthusiasm for studying. Her is unfocused, foggy and sluggish.

Hermione puts her head in her hands. She'd looked forward to coming back to Hogwarts, to start going to classes again and having butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks; now she wishes she'd never come back. Her teachers are worried about her, concerned about her grades. She feels like a failure.

_Tap! Tap!_

Hermione jumps. She looks up to see a large brown owl perched outside the dormitory window.

Wiping her eyes, she opens the window and lets the Owl in. She shivers as a gust of cold air washes over her arms and face.

The owl sticks out its leg to show a letter. Hermione frowns at it, wondering who it could be from. This owl doesn't belong to anyone she knows. It's a beautiful creature with shiny, well kept feathers.

A Ministry Owl, she thinks.

She picks up the envelope and runs her hands over the front of the envelope.

_Hermione Granger_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Gryffindor Tower_

_Seventh Year Girls_

Hermione turns over the letter. The Ministry seal is emblazoned on the back of the envelope.

"...I don't care Demzela you're not going in there!"

"_He's_ with you!"

"I'm Head Boy, I can do whatever the hell I like."

"That's not fair!"

"Oh quiet. You don't give a damn, you only want to be in the loop!"

"You're such a _cow _Ginny."

Hermione's head jerks up. The voices are coming from outside her door. It sounds like a crowd of people is out there. Hermione can hear the low rumbling of girls talking and yelling to one another.

_My essays. _

Panicking, Hermione bolted across the floor. She threw the Ministry letter on her bedside table. She was hurriedly shoving her essays under her pillow when the dormitory door opened; Ginny marched in followed by a sheepish looking Neville.

"Go away you lot!" Ginny snapped. She angrily slammed the door behind her. Hermione gaped at the doorway. About twenty girls were craning their necks to peer inside the seventh year dormitory. Their faces flashed with anger as the door shut in their face.

"Ridiculous behaviour," Neville growled, shaking his head.

"I've half a mind to report them all. You should have seen the behaviour of some of them in the Great Hall."

_"What on earth is going on?!"_

Ginny and Neville whipped around to face her. Ginny paled immediately. Neville grimaced; Hermione noticed he was holding a newspaper.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked Neville. "The Head Boy's only supposed to come into the girl's dorm if it's an emergency."

Ginny and Neville glanced at one another. Ginny took a tentative step towards her. Her expression was odd; she looked uncertain and pained at the same time.

"There's a...thing," Ginny told her, "in the Prophet. You need to know before you come down for breakfast this morning."

"What now?" Hermione asked, irritated. The Prophet printed nonsense about her on a daily basis. Last week the gossip columnist had written an article discussing whether she and Ron were getting married.

Neville threw the newspaper a dirty look when he handed it to her. Ginny glared at it like it had personally offended her.

Frowning, Hermione unfolded the newspaper and stared at the front page.

"MALFOY TRIAL SET FOR 1ST DECEMBER HARRY POTTER, RON WEASLEY AND HERMIONE GRANGER STAR WITNESSES FOR THE MINISTRY."

There was silence. Hermione stared at the newspaper headline, her eyes wide. She skim read the main article on the front page. Words jumped out at her: 'Trial of the Century' 'downfall of the most prominent family in the UK,' 'expose,' 'all their dirty laundry aired in public'

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice was tentative. Hermione saw her exchange a worried look with Neville out of the corner of her eye.

Hermione dropped the newspaper on the floor and grabbed the Ministry letter from her bedside table. She furiously ripped open the envelope.

_20th October 1998_

_'Dear Miss Granger,_

_RE: NOTICE OF SUMMONS_

_You are hereby summoned to attended a hearing on the 1st December 1998 to give evidence in the matter of M v Malfoy (Draco) M v Malfoy (Narcissa) and M v Malfoy (Lucius). You are being called as a witness for the prosecution..._

Her breath left her. She felt a fish out of water, gasping for air. Why were the walls closing in on her? Why was her heart seizing up on her? Why was her chest tightening?

"Hermione?"

"Hermione what's wrong?"

Was she dying? Is this why she felt so bad? Her whole body was shaking. She was swallowing down bile. Her throat felt constricted and tight. She had to sit down. She had to leave here. She couldn't breathe.

"Hermione!"

"Oh my god she's having a panic attack."

She slowly slipped onto the floor. The floor was solid. It didn't move like the rest of the dormitory. Her heart was thumping madly. It felt like somebody was poking her chest with a fire poker.

"Get McGonagall!"

They're going to make her talk about Malfoy Manor. She's going to have to talk about _her_.

Knives.

Curses.

The werwolf that leers at her and says he'll have her before he kills her.

Somebody is at her side. They put their arms around her and hold her tight. Hermione grips on to them;the arms are solid and comforting. Hermione looks up. It's Neville.

"You're OK," he says to her. "It's going to be OK, Hermione. Breathe; take deep breaths."

She tries to focus on something else. She self-consciously touches her left arm. The scar there tingles.

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"It's going to be OK Molly."

Mrs Weasley wiped her eyes and sniffed. She stared at the front page of the Daily Prophet with the greatest dislike. Mr Weasley sat beside her, his arm around her shoulders. Bill sat on his mother's other side, his hand on her arm. Fleur was frantically making a calming draught in the corner. Charlie stood beside his father, his arms folded, a dark look on his face. Percy stood in the kitchen doorway torn between joining his family and staying where he was.

Harry sat in one of the squishy chairs on the other side of the kitchen table. He felt like an awkward intruder upon the family anguish.

"It'll be OK Mum," Bill was saying, "All Ron'll have to do is give his evidence and go."

"I don't understand _why_ he has to give evidence in the first place!" Mrs Weasley growled, throwing a glare in Harry's direction.

"Mum, come on..."

Harry looked away from Mrs Weasley. He felt awful.

When Harry and Bill had shown Mr and Mrs Weasley the front page of the Prophet, they'd demanded to know why Ron was a witness in the trial. Harry, knowing that it wasn't his place to explain, had refused. While Mr Weasley had accepted this, Mrs Weasley had not.

"I've half a mind to go the Ministry and give Kingsley a piece of my mind!"

"That...that won't be helpful Mum," Bill told her.

"That's the epitome of unhelpful," Percy added, from the door.

"Kingsley's probably hiding from you anyway," Charlie told his mother, smirking, "you've got a badass reputation now."

"Boys..." Mr Weasley said in a warning voice.

"Oh!"

Everyone turned at the sound of Fleur's voice. She had stopped mid way through cutting up some green leaves and was staring at the window. A large, sleek black owl was approaching the house. It darted through the Burrow's open window and landed on the kitchen table in front of Harry.

Harry grimaced.

"What now?" he muttered. He'd had enough owls for one day.

The Weasleys stared at Harry as he took the envelope from the owl's talons and stared at the name on the front.

_Harry Potter_

_The Burrow_

The hand writing was unfamiliar. Harry looked at the owl. It blinked back at him expectantly. It didn't make any move to leave.

Frowning, Harry opened the letter and pulled out a small piece of paper.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_I would like you to meet me on the 23rd October at 9:00am in the holding cells of the Ministry of Magic. A man called Muldover will take you to my cell. My advocate will be present and you are entitled to bring your own.  
><em>

_You owe me._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Narcissa Malfoy._

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	3. Chapter 3

_Hi everyone- thanks for your follows, favourites etc. Much appreciated. _

_20th October, 1998_

When George and Ron arrived at the Burrow, they found Charlie waiting for them. He sat on a blanket, a half eaten sandwich and flask beside him. He'd obviously been waiting for a while.

"Heard the great news?" said Ron, sarcastically.

Charlie grimaced at him. "Yeah," he said. "Something else has happened too."

"Oh come on," Ron complained, "what now?"

"You'll see," said Charlie, a dark look on his face.

When they entered the kitchen, they found Harry and their father having a blazing row. The two men stood in the middle of the kitchen, feet apart. Their father's face was red, his fists clenched at his sides. Harry looked exasperated and angry. He stood with his arms folded resolutely across his chest. Bill stood in between both men, his hand on his wand.

Ron gazed at the rest of his family. Percy was hovering beside the kitchen sink. He gazed at Harry and his father anxiously, biting his lip. His mother sat anxiously at the kitchen table, Fleur beside her. Fleur had one arm around his mother's shoulders. She looked frightened. Ron frowned. He'd noticed something strange; Fleur was holding his mother's wand.

Ron felt fearful. _What had happened?_

"...you are being an idiot!" his father was shouting at Harry. "You have no idea what you're getting into!"

"Arthur," Harry's voice was pained, "I know what I'm doing!"

"You don't!" he replied, "If you did you'd stop and think before running off and doing something stupid!"

"I have to do this," Harry pleaded. "Arthur I have to..."

"You could jeopardise the trial! You could put yourself in jail!"

Ron looked at George. He stared at his father and Harry with a bemused look on his face.

"Well, fuck," he said.

"What the hell's going on?" said Ron, loudly.

Everyone looked round at the sound of his voice. Harry visibly relaxed. He looked relived to see him.

_"Ron!"_

His mother darted out of her chair. She threw her arms tightly around his waist. He winced as she squeezed him tightly.

"It's okay Mum!" Ron patted his mother on the head. She detached herself from his arms and took a step back to stare at him. She threw him a hard, searching look.

"Why are you being called as witness in this trial?" she demanded in a low, furious voice. "What on earth could you _possibly_ have to say in a court of law about that family?!"

Shit, thought Ron. He'd expected his mother to know about the trial when he got home, he hadn't expected her to interrogate him straight away.

He looked at Harry. His best friend sighed and leaned against one of the kitchen units. He threw Ron a look: see what I've had to put with this morning.

"Mum," Ron said, "it's complicated...I can't explain right now."

His mother glared at him. "First Harry and now you!" she cried. "I'm your mother. I deserve an explanation!"

Harry glaring determinedly at the kitchen floor. Ron noticed that he held a crumpled piece of paper in his hands.

"Mum," said Ron, "I want to tell you but...not now. I need to talk to Harry first."

He thought his mother would understand. Instead, his words made her face contort with anger.

"No you don't," she snarled. "You will tell me_ now._"

Ron winced at the terrifying expression on his mother's face. Perhaps sensing that he needed rescuing, George spoke. "Why are you and Harry about to have a punch up, Dad?" he asked brightly.

Their father's face darkened. He glared at Harry.

"Because Harry is being ridiculous," he spat. "Talk some sense into him Ron."

"Eh, Why?" demanded Ron. He looked questioningly at Harry.

Harry briefly closed his eyes. He looked like a man bracing himself for a fall. He held up the small piece of paper.

"I got a letter this morning," he told Ron, "from Narcissa Malfoy. She wants me to meet her in the Ministry holding cells."

"What?" cried George.

"You're kidding?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded grimly.

Ron was shocked. What was Narcissa Malfoy thinking contacting Harry? She hated him. He hated her.

"I...I'm going to meet her," Harry told Ron. He looked pointedly at his Dad. "I've made my mind up. I have to do it."

Ron gaped at him.

"You're being stupid!" his father snapped."If you get caught meeting Mrs Malfoy the trial could be thrown out! They'd have to repeat the entire process again. You'll be held in contempt! You'll be thrown in jail!"

The words poured bitterly from his mouth. Ron had never heard his father speak to Harry in such a way before. Harry had always gotten on so well with both of his parents. To them, he was the son they never had.

Ron sensed his father's anger was more misdirection than anything else; it burst out of him erratically, haphazardly hitting anything it touched. His anger had obviously been bubbling under the surface for a long time, waiting to get out. There was a lot unsaid in his father's voice: anger at the Malfoy family, anger at Voldemort, anger at his family's suffering.

Ron noted how thin his father was, how white his hair was. There was pain in his eyes; a sadness there that would never go away. It was funny, Ron thought bitterly, how Fred's death touched everything now, even the iris' in his father's eyes.

He had a brief flashback to the weeks after the war ended, when his parents had been mere imitations of their former selves. He saw his mother, unable to talk to anyone, wondering about the Burrow like a ghost. He saw his father, empty and sad, unable to have a conversation without bitterness and sadness consuming him. Things were getting better, but hurt and anger still remained.

Ron was grateful that Bill intervened.

"Dad," Bill's voice was gentle, "let's just sit down and talk about this rationally."

"Don't tell me what to do Bill," he snapped back. Bill looked hurt. He opened his mouth to reply but a look from Fleur stopped him.

Harry held up the piece of paper towards Ron; he nodded at it meaningfully. Ron marched across the kitchen and took the paper from his hand.

"You didn't let us read it!" Percy told Harry, sounding put out.

Harry ignored Percy. He watched Ron as he opened the letter.

Ron read the letter so fast that the words became blurs. Only two words stood out: "You owe me"

Ron gaped at the letter.

"No way," he said to Harry in a hushed voice. Harry grimaced.

"Can't catch a break," he said, dully.

Ron glanced at his family. "Why did you tell them about this?" he asked, nodding at his parents and his brothers. He thought Harry could have been more discreet about the letter. Surely it would have been easier to deal with this without his family knowing.

"I didn't tell them," Harry said through gritted teeth. He looked embarrassed. Ron saw him glance at his mother.

"I accioed the letter out of his hand!" she snapped,"I've had enough secrets in this house!." She threw him a hurt look, "It's nice to know that you would have been honest with us Ron."

"Mum, you know I didn't mean it like that..."

She cut him off mid sentence, pointing at Harry with a shaking finger. "Tell him he's being stupid!" she said. "Tell him not to do this!"

Ron stared at his parents. They glared at him expectantly. Ron knew they thought he could talk Harry out of meeting Mrs Malfoy. They seemed to think his word would convince him.

If only they knew, Ron thought. When Harry Potter's mind was made up, there was very little anybody could do.

Harry stared at him nervously. He glanced at Ron's parents before raising an eyebrow at him in a challenging way. He wanted to know if Ron agreed with his parents, if he'd take their side over his.

Ron's loyalties tugged him in different directions. Harry, his parents, they were both family. He felt annoyed that they expected him to pick a side, that they thought he was incapable of forming his own opinion.

The truth? He didn't know what to think. He knew his parents were right, that Harry was risking a lot by meeting Mrs Malfoy, but they had no idea why he was going to meeting her in the first place.

"What do you think she's going to do?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. He looked troubled.

"I don't know," he said "but I need to find out."

Charlie let out an exasperated splutter.

"Harry, you owe her nothing!" he spat. "This is insane! What could she possibly have to say to you?"

"If You Know Who had won you can bet your bottom galleon she wouldn't be as considerate as you!" Ron's father snapped.

"Exactly," his mother said, nodding at her husbands words.

"Ron," his father's eyed him sternly, "I'm not going to repeat myself again: tell Harry that he's doing the wrong thing."

Ron squirmed as everyone stared at him. He hated this. A part of him wanted Harry to write back to Mrs Malfoy and tell her to shove it. He remembered Malfoy Manor. He remembered Hermione screaming for her life while the Malfoys stood by and did nothing. He remembered that Mr Malfoy had tried to kill his sister. That Mrs Malfoy had once called Hermione a mudblood, that Draco had once laughed at the prospect of her dying.

Another part of Ron remembered seeing Harry dead in Hagrid's arms. He remembered how he'd felt: crushing grief, anger and despair, pain like he'd never felt before, a pain that went all the way to his bones. The whole world had collapsed in on him. He'd gripped Hermione's hand and whispered to her that they needed to make a run for it when the coast was clear. Voldemort would pursue them if he figured out who they were. His mind had jumped months ahead in time: he and Hermione on the run from the Death Eaters, desperately trying to find a way to kill Nagini...

That hadn't happened, Ron remembered. Narissa Malfoy had lied to Voldemort. She'd let him believe Harry was dead. That single lie had allowed Harry to trick Voldemort, to gain the upper hand. If Voldemort had realised that Harry wasn't dead, he might have killed him in the Forest.

To his surprise, his mind went to Peter Pettigrew. He remembered how his former rat-turned Death Eater had died because of his hesitation to kill Harry. What had Harry said to Pettigrew before he withdrew his hand? '_You owe me Wormtail_.' Narcissa Malfoy had written those same words in her letter to Harry.

Bonds and debts were important, Ron thought. It was important to honour them.

"I think Harry's right," Ron said to the room at large, "he has to do this. He should hear what she has to say," he glanced at Harry, "that's all he should do though."

His father glared at him. His mother's face went red. Harry smiled at him gratefully. There was an outcry of protest:

"For goodness sake Ron!" his mother snapped.

_"What's wrong with you?_" Charlie snarled at him.

"This is ridiculous," Percy twittered, folding his arms and looking displeased.

Only Bill said nothing. He shared a look with Fleur before looking between Ron and Harry with a frown on his face.

"What do you think George?" Fleur asked, suddenly. George had said nothing in the outcry. He'd watched silently from the doorway of the kitchen, a thoughtful look on his face.

Everyone stopped talking. They all turned to look at George, who looked uncomfortable being the centre of attention.

George's eyes found Ron's; he frowned at him in a curious way. He was silent for a few seconds before speaking.

"If Ron think it's the right thing to do then it's the right thing to do," he said, shrugging. "Not up to us, is it?"

"Oh George!" their mother cried, she looked cross.

Ron grinned at George. His brother winked at him-'_I've got your back.'_

"George, you can't possibly think this is a good idea!" Percy said to him hotly.

"This is madness," Mr Weasley spat, glaring at Harry. "Absolute madness."

Ron turned to Harry.

"You need to tell them," he said, nodding at his family. "You need to make them understand."

It hurt him to lie to his family, to withold information from them. He'd spent the past two years keeping secrets from his parents. They'd let him go off with Harry without an explanation, they'd still only been told very little about the events of the past year. Bill had let Harry, Ron and Hermione stay at his house for weeks after their escape from Malfoy Manor, he hadn't pushed them for details of their mission.

Harry looked surprised at Ron's request. He gestured at Mrs Malfoy's letter.

"It isn't the sort of thing you just tell people," he said in a low voice.

"They're not going to tell anyone!" Ron told him. "If you trust me you trust my family. They need to understand why you're doing this."

"Ron..."

"Please Harry."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. He looked terrified.

Ron knew why his friend was so reluctant to tell his family about Mrs Malfoy. Harry was still coming to terms with everything that had happened in the Forest. He never talked about it, not even with Ron and Hermione. Anytime they brought it up, he went quiet and pale. Ron understood. Harry had walked into the Forest to face his own death; he'd spoken to his parents, Sirius and Remus. Ron doubted anybody could go through that and not be fucked up afterwards.

"Harry..."

His best friend nodded, his eyes still closed.

"For god's sake, _what's going on?_" Charlie asked angrily.

Harry paused before he spoke. He fixed his eyes on Ron's father, who stared defiantly back. Anger bubbled beneath his green eyes.

"It happened in the Forest," he said, "what I'm about to tell you happened in the forest."

Ron watched his family exchange shocked, eager looks. What had happened between Harry and Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest was already the stuff of legend. Hermione had told Ron in her last letter that she'd overheard a third year telling some first years that Harry had turned into a snake and tricked Voldemort into believing he was dead. The Daily Prophet was full of speculation on the subject. The Quibbler had printed a special 'Harry Potter conspiracy theory' edition.

"Voldemort sent someone to check that I was dead," Harry said, "after he put me under the killing curse." He paused, "He sent Narcissa Malfoy."

Ron's mother's mouth fell open. His father narrowed his eyes.

"Mrs Malfoy went to check if I was dead. She knew immediately that I wasn't. I thought she would tell Voldemort immediately but she didn't. When she went to check my pulse she asked me whether her son was alive...I told her he was," he gulped, "She stood up and told Voldemort that I was dead. He believed her. You know the rest."

There was stunned silence. George looked perplexed. Charlie looked like he'd been stunned. Percy's mouth was frozen in an odd expression-it looked like he had gone to scowl but had stopped half way through due to shock. Bill looked confused. Fleur gaped at Harry.

Harry only had eyes for Ron's parents. Ron's father looked shell-shocked. He kept opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish, speechless. His mother mouthed at Harry wordlessly.

When nobody spoke for several seconds, Harry threw Ron a worried look. He replied by shrugging helplessly.

Finally, Charlie broke the silence.

"Wait...what?" he said loudly.

"Let me get this straight," Percy said in a breathless voice, "Narcissa Malfoy lied to You Know Who?"

"Yes. " Harry said slowly.

"She covered for you?" Bill asked.

"Yes."

"She knew you were alive?" Fleur said.

"Yes."

"She actually lied to Voldemort?" cried George.

"So you were able to..." Charlie muttered.

"Yes."

"She actually lied to Voldemort?" Percy repeated.

_"Yes!"_

Harry answered the questions succinctly, making it quite clear that he wasn't going to give out any further information. He hadn't looked at any of the brothers as he spoke, his eyes remained fixed on Ron's father. Ron noted that anger still burned beneath his father's eyes, but his features had softened.

"You say I don't owe Mrs Malfoy anything," Harry talked to the room in general, but he addressed Ron's father, "but I do. I owe her a lot."

His father looked away from Harry. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with the bottom of his shirt. His face was impassive.

"While I understand why you feel that you should repay your debt to Mrs Malfoy," he said in a strained voice , "this only makes me worry more. What she did for you...Harry goodness know what she'll ask of you."

"I haven't said I'm going to do anything for her!" Harry protested, "but I owe it to her to hear what she has to say."

Mr Weasley sighed. He put his glasses back on his face. He looked angry again.

"Harry, what if she asks you to lie for her? What if she asks you to say that she didn't do any of things she's accused of?"

"That can't be why she's asking to meet you Harry," Percy piped up suddenly. "The Ministry has too much evidence against the Malfoys. It would be crazy of her to ask you to lie for her."

"Then what's she asking him to meet her for?" Bill wondered, "I think you should meet her Harry... but I agree with Dad, this doesn't add up."

"Personally," George said, "I'm just happy that the rumour you tricked Voldemort by seducing his snake isn't true."

"What?!" Harry spluttered as Ron burst out laughing. He felt a rush of gratitude towards George. He could feel the tension in the room lesson as everyone chuckled at his comment.

"I heard that rumour," Charlie said to George, "I also heard he transformed himself into a unicorn and hypnotized him."

"That's a nice one."

"I heard you'd escaped death by transfiguring a twig into your dead body," Percy told Harry.

Harry mouthed wordlessly at the brothers, utterly thrown by this unexpected conversation.

"Boys!" their mother intervened, talking loudly over their laughter, "We're trying to have a a serious conversation!"

They stopped talking, but Ron saw George laughing to himself when their mother turned away from him.

His father turned to Harry.

"Is there nothing we can say to change your mind?" he asked. There was a slightly desperate tone to his voice.

Harry shook his head. There was still anger in his face.

"Well then," his father sighed, closing his eyes, "if you're going to do this you need to at least take an Advocate with you."

"One of those new lawyers the Ministry introduced?" Ron asked. His father nodded.

"What Advocate would agree to come with me?" Harry let out a hollow laugh. "This is dangerous."

To Ron's surprise, it was Charlie who spoke.

"I know somebody who'll do it," he said.

"Hang on," said George, "how do_you_ know somebody who'll do something illegal and I don't?"

"Since when did you become friendly weeth an Advocate?" Fleur asked Charlie, frowning.

"Who is it, George?" Ron's father asked, clearly exasperated with everyone jumping in to ask questions.

"Audrey," Charlie said, "Audrey Sheppard."

"Wait, hang on," George frowned, "I know her! She was the year above me. Hufflepuff?"

"Yeah."

"Oh yes, I know her," Percy said, rather stiffly. "She and her friends were also responsible for charming the pictures to sing a very rude version of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer one Christmas...She's been at the Magical Law Department for a few years now."

"Fred and I once caught her making out with some guy in the Potions Department," said George, grinning. "The Potions Department! You've got to have balls of steel to do that."

There was a second of awkwardness as Fred's name was mentioned, but Ron was pleased to see that George didn't notice. He was smiling to himself, thinking about the memory.

"I sincerely hope _you_ didn't do that either!" their mother growled from the kitchen table.

"Of course not," George said, innocently, though his eyes glittered.

"I've also heard of Audrey Sheppard," Mr Weasley said, frowning.

"What?" Ron said, catching George's eye and grinning, "Did you find her making out with someone in a classroom as well, Dad?"

_"Ron!_"

"How do you know Audrey Sheppard, Dad?" Percy asked, his voice making it clear that he didn't approve of the jokes.

"She was one of our plants at the Ministry," his father replied. "You've met her Bill."

Bill nodded. "She was one of our insiders," he told Harry. "She was part of the group of wizards that took down Voldemort's Ministry stronghold on the night of the Battle."

"How do _you _know Audrey Charles?" George asked Charlie. "Since we're all sharing."

Charlie shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. He cleared this throat and stared determinedly at the kitchen table.

"Well, we're kind of dating," he said.

"_What_?" Mrs Weasley yelped. "You have a girlfriend? Charlie that's wonderful. Why didn't you tell me?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Charlie grumbled. He shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked displeased.

"Ah, one of those relationships," George said, winking at Ron. Ron snorted with laughter. Charlie glared at George.

"She must be nice if she ees going out with you," said Fleur, smiling.

"Will she do it?" Harry asked Charlie. "Do you think she'd be up for this?"

"I think so. Audrey's cool," he said. "All the Advocates are running around trying to get cases at the moment. They're all broke. She's pretty desperate for clients."

"Wait a second," Percy said. "You're going to ask the girl you're dating to hire Harry Potter as a client and go with him to an illegal meeting with Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Well, yeah." Charlie said, like this was obvious.

"Hi Audrey," Percy began to imitate his eldest brother, "I know we've only been dating for a while but do you fancy being part of a clandestine meeting with Mrs Malfoy. Oh and by the way, fancy dinner?"

"Shut up Perce," Charlie snapped, glowering at his younger brother as Ron, George, Percy, Bill and Fleur laughed. Percy looked delighted that he'd made a successful joke.

"I can send her an owl now Harry," Charlie said in a stiff voice.

"That'd be great."

Charlie glared at Percy before leaving the kitchen.

"I still don't think this is a good idea Harry," Ron's mother said to Harry in a worried voice. "Please, please reconsider."

"I can't " Harry replied sadly. "I'm sorry."

To Ron's surprise, Charlie returned to kitchen almost as soon as he left.

"What is it?" Bill asked.

Charlie gulped.

"Kingsley's on his way over," he said. "He's in the garden."

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Dammit, thought Harry. Kingsley Shacklebolt had the worst timing.

"Shit," said George. "What do we do? Do we tell him about the letter?"

Everyone looked at him for directions. He sighed loudly and rubbed both of his hands over his face. When was this day going to end? He felt like stealing a bottle of firewhisky and climbing into Ron's wardrobe.

His eyes found Mr Weasley's. He couldn't help the rush of anger he felt. He had to bite his tongue to stop resentful words pouring out of his mouth.

He hadn't expected Mr Weasley to blow up at him. He'd been so understanding this morning when he'd refused to explain why he and Ron were being called as witnesses in the trial. It had all changed when Mrs Malfoy's owl had arrived. When Mrs Weasley stole the letter from his hand, Mr Weasley had pushed him for an answer on whether he was going to meet Mrs Malfoy. When he'd had answered yes, Mr Weasley had exploded. Things had escalated quickly into a full-blown row. Fleur had stepped in to take Mrs Weasley's wand off her.

Mr Weasley had never been angry at him before. He'd never so much as raised his voice to him in the seven years that they'd known each other. Harry felt uncomfortable being angry with him. It felt wrong. He felt like he was back in Runcorn's body and Mr Weasley was confronting him in the lift in the Ministry of Magic, staring at him with dislike. He shouldn't be annoyed at Mr Weasley. Ron's father shouldn't be glaring at him with such intense fury.

He'd thought Mr Weasley would understand when he told him that he couldn't explain why he had to see Mrs Malfoy. He'd forgotten that Mr Weasley had changed since the end of the war. There was something else inside him now: darkness and bitterness, a consequence of losing a child.

Harry could tell Mr Weasley's anger had loosened since he'd explained his reasons for meeting Mrs Malfoy. His face wasn't as red, his face had softened. He no longer looked like a man with a pole stuck up his arse, Harry thought, he looked sheepish. Harry wondered if Mr Weasley felt embarrassed for shouting at him; he'd had a good reason for wanting to meet Mrs Malfoy. He hadn't been withholding the story just to be a prick.

He'd surprised himself. He hadn't expected to make a decision about the letter so quickly. When he'd first read Mrs Malfoy's words, he'd been gripped with anxiety. Why was Mrs Malfoy contacting him? Why did she want to meet him?

His first instinct had been to write back and tell Mrs Malfoy that he wasn't meeting her, that she must be mad to think he'd break the law to see her. He'd been half tempted to not reply back at all, to burn the letter with his wand.

He'd changed his mind.

Since the war ended he had good days and bad days. On the bad days he felt like being alone, lying in bed all day so that he wouldn't have to deal with the thoughts that crowded his brain. Sometimes he felt so guilty about the deaths of Tonks, Fred and Lupin that it overwhelmed him. The Healer he'd seen after the war called it survivors guilt. He said it was common; that it wasn't anything to be ashamed of.

On the good days, Harry felt like crying with happiness. The days stretched before him, limitless and free. Sometimes he woke up in the morning and did nothing, just for the pleasure of it. At dusk he sat in the garden of the Burrow and ran his hands through the grass. On those days he remembered the cold, hard ground of the Forest floor and thanked god he was alive.

He owed Narcissa Malfoy.

As their eyes met, Harry felt like he and Mr Weasley were on the same page for the first time that day: Kingsley Shacklebolt couldn't know about Mrs Malfoy. The letter had to stay secret. Harry knew Mr Weasley understood what the consequences would be if the Minister for Magic found out about the letter.

"We say nothing," Mr Weasley said to the kitchen firmly. "The details of the letter don't leave this kitchen."

"We lie?!" said Charlie in a hushed voice.

"Arthur, you're not serious?" said Mrs Weasley nervously.

"If Kingsley finds out, Harry will be in serious trouble," Mr Weasley told his wife.

Mrs Weasley nodded, though she looked concerned. "I suppose," she said. "The Malfoys still command influence, don't they? There are still people out there loyal to them, people who'll do anything they say at the drop of a hat." She shuddered and glanced worryingly at Harry and Ron.

"There are still a lot of Death Eaters at large," said Bill. "Dad's right. We keep this to ourselves."

"You think Mrs Malfoy would send somebody after Harry?" Ron asked his father.

"If they find out he's handed the letter over to Kingsley, yes," he replied.

Harry felt a rush of gratitude towards Mr Weasley. He was still angry at him, but he recognised that Mr Weasley was trying to make up with him through his words. He smiled gratefully at him, pleased when Mr Weasley nodded back.

"No. _No._ I'm not having this. We have to tell Kingsley."

They all looked at Percy. He was standing upright, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He stared round at his family with a nervous yet defiant look on his face. His mouth quivered.

"Percy..." Bill said warily.

"I think Harry should meet with Mrs Malfoy but we...we have to tell Kingsley,_ I have to tell Kingsley_. I can't lie to him. If this gets out and Kingsley finds out I knew about it..." the words poured out Percy's mouth in a tumbled rush. His voice was higher than usual. He avoided Harry's eyes.

Harry knew why Percy was reluctant to keep the letter from Kingsley. He worked for Kingsley now in his personal department. Percy had gotten a job as an assistant to the Minister for Magic, one of twenty wizards and witches appointed to work in the new Department of the Minister for Magic. Percy's previous experience as Junior Assistant made him stand out among the other applicants. Kingsley had personally asked Percy to apply for the job. Percy had been utterly thrown by the offer; Harry knew he hadn't expected such a good job offer to come so soon after the war. Percy hadn't had a good reputation in the Ministry after he'd been sacked from his job working for Fudge. He hadn't had much contact with Kingsley after abandoning his family. Thanks to kindness shown to him, Percy was as loyal to Kingsley as he'd been to Fudge, probably more so.

"You'll tell Kingsley no such thing," Mr Weasley snapped. "You'll do as I say. The letter stays secret."

"But Dad..."

"Perce, don't argue," George said to his older brother in a low voice. Mr Weasley had gone red in the face again. He looked ready to start yelling again.

There was a knock at the front door. Percy went pale, he began to wring his hands together nervously.

"Get the door Molly," Mr Weasley told his wife. "Hold Kingsley off for a few minutes."

Mrs Weasely nodded grimly. She left the kitchen with a determined look on his face.

"If Kingsley finds out I knew about his I'll be sacked!" Percy said to his father. "He's put a lot of faith and trust in me and..."

Harry spoke up. A small part of him felt bad for putting Percy in such a difficult position, another part of him wanted to shake Percy for putting his loyalty to his employer on par with his family.

"Percy," he said, "if you tell Kingsley about Mrs Malfoy I'm a goner. You heard your Dad. She'll never forgive me for betraying her."

"So what?" Percy burst out. He clenched his fists by his sides. He stared obstinately at Harry. "She's a criminal Harry. Do you really care what she thinks of you?"

"No," said Harry. "I do care about pissing her off so much that she wants me dead though."

Percy opened his mouth to argue back but Ron cut him off.

"Perce," he said, "Kingsley isn't going to find out about this! We'll make sure of it."

"Come on Percy," Bill said, gently. "Stop being an idiot."

Percy chewed his lip nervously. "He'll understand," he said. "Kingsley will understand if we tell him. I know he will!"

"He won't. You'll do as I say," Mr Weasley told his son flatly. "We're not talking about it any more. You said to me that you wanted to make up for your behaviour the past two years. This is how you'll do it."

Percy looked down at the floor, red in the face. He looked embarrassed and upset.

Things hadn't been easy for Percy since he'd been welcomed back into the Weasley fold. He'd been forgiven by his family in every possible way, but Harry knew he felt like outsider. The Weasleys included him in everything, his brothers joked and teased him like they always had, his mother kissed him on the cheek every night before he went to bed, but it wasn't like before. There was an awkwardness to the interactions between Percy and his family now, a distance there that hadn't been there before.

Harry often felt like Mr and Mrs Weasley were more comfortable around him than Percy. They were more at ease when he entered a room, more eager to engage him in conversation. With Percy, it felt like Mr and Mrs Weasley didn't really know what to say to him. Harry understood why. Percy hadn't gone through what his family had: he hadn't had to uproot and move to Grimmauld Place, he hadn't had to join the Order of the Phoenix, he hadn't attended Bill's wedding, he hadn't had to go into hiding. He'd spent the past two years living a separate life; a life his family couldn't connect with. The Weasleys had changed when Percy left; he felt like he didn't have a place any-more.

Harry had watched Percy for the past few months. When everyone was together, he nervously hovered in the background. He hung back from interacting with his family in the way that he should. He was afraid of getting involved, unsure whether he was truly welcome. Sometimes Harry caught Percy staring at him with jealousy, angry that his brother's best friend had replaced him.

"...If you just want to come this way Kingsley!"

Mrs Weasley's voice, louder than necessary, carried all the way into the kitchen. Percy looked out the window, anguish on his face. Harry shared a nervous look with Ron.

Mrs Weasley entered the kitchen, Kingsley behind her. Gone were the casual clothes Kingsley used to wear, he looked every inch the politician he had become: he wore dark robes over a simple black suit. Harry noted how tired and weary he looked. He looked surprised to see the entire Weasley clan in the kitchen. Harry noticed that Percy was looking determinedly away from Kingsley, his face impassive.

"Arthur, I was just saying to Molly...I'd intended to send an owl before coming but I couldn't. I've had an absolute nightmare this morning."

"Funny that," said Ron. "We've had a bit of a 'mare ourselves this morning."

There was uncomfortable silence. Harry bit his lip and looked down at the floor. George, who really deserved the sentence 'doesn't give a fuck' as a middle name, laughed loudly.

Kingsley sighed and half smiled at Ron.

"Touché," he said. "I'll take that."

"Is everything alright Kingsley?" said Mr Weasley in an overly friendly way. He eyed Percy out of the corner of his eye.

Kingsley shook his head wearily.

"No," he said. His eyes landed on Ron and Harry. He sighed again.

"I want to formally apologise to you all," he said. "For the fiasco with the Prophet."

"Fiasco?" said Harry, confused. "What fiasco?"

"The date of the trial, the fact that you, Ron and Hermione are witnesses...that was supposed to be embargoed until Friday. Somebody leaked it to the Prophet!" Kingsley growled. "I wanted to come and talk to you first before the world found out. I'm sorry. Truly sorry. Woe betide the person responsible when I catch them."

Harry felt comforted by Kingsley's words. He'd felt hurt at the thought that the Ministry, under Kingsley, had briefed the Prophet about the trial. The Prophet was setting him, Ron and Hermione up as some sort of poster warriors for the Ministry. Harry was glad Kingsley wasn't making the same mistakes as Scrimgeour.

"We're pleased to hear that," said Mrs Weasley. Her tone of voice made it quite clear that she hadn't been happy with Kingsley.

"I heard you got ambushed by reporters this morning Ron," said Kingsley, darkly.

"Yeah," Ron's voice was gruff. "They tackled me when I was on my way to work this morning."

"You forgot to mention that!" cried Mrs Weasley. "I hope we're not inundated by reporters again. The last one hid in our garden disguised as a geranium."

"Well I forgot what with all the talk about..." Ron coughed and glanced nervously at Kingsley, "you know, the trial."

Percy stared determinedly at the floor. He was grinding his teeth.

"Arthur, Molly, I hope you don't mind but I'd like to speak to Harry and Ron in private."

Harry and Ron frowned at one another. Mr and Mrs Weasley shared a dark look.

"I promise it'll only take a few minutes," Kingsley said.

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They headed into the Weasleys' small dining room. Harry and Ron sat on the small sofa. Kingsley took Mr Weasley's large burgundy armchair.

"I've already said it but I feel the need to say it again: I'm sorry for the fuck up with the Prophet," said Kingsley. "We got blind sided this morning."

"It hasn't been fun," said Harry. "We didn't expect to hear about the trial until next year."

"The Judges have pushed it forward," said Kingsley. "They're keen to get the trial out of the way before the end of the year. Our prosecutors are ready for trial earlier than expected, but I'll get to that in a minute." He paused. "Have you heard from Hermione?"

"No," Ron said, darkly. "I've half a mind to go up to Hogwarts and see her."

Harry nodded. He was worried that they hadn't heard from Hermione yet. He hated that she was at Hogwarts on her own. He didn't like the thought of her dealing with the furore over the trial by herself. He was having a hard time dealing with it himself and he was in familiar surroundings. He decided to go with Ron if he went to Hogwarts later; he would feel better when he saw her. It wasn't that he considered Hermione weak. He just knew he, Ron and Hermione were better when they were together.

"I came here to apologise to you both but I also came to tell you about the charges being brought against the Malfoys. You need to know before they're announced on Friday."

Harry looked at Ron. They shared a look of trepidation.

Kingsley eyed them sadly. He took a deep breath.

"With regard to Lucius Malfoy, we're doing him for aiding and assisting a proscribed organisation, for aiding and assisting in the kidnap and imprisonment of Luna Lovegood and Garrick Ollivander, for breaking out of Azkaban, for owning a long list of dark and dangerous artefacts..." Kingsley leaned back in his chair. "For Narcissa Malfoy, we're charging her with the same charges as Lucius as well as charging her with membership of a proscribed organisation."

"You're charging her with membership of the Death Eaters?" asked Ron.

"The prosecutors think they can get her with it."

Ron raised his eyebrows. To Harry's knowledge, Narcissa Malfoy had never been a Death Eater.

"What about Draco?" Ron asked.

"They're getting him for the attempted murder of Albus Dumbeldore, for attempting to murder Kate Bell and, well, you."

Ron was taken aback. "Me?" he said. "They're charging him with attempting to murder me?"

"Yes, because of the incident with the potion."

"Wow."

"They're also charging Draco with being a member of the Death Eaters, for aiding and assisting with the kidnap of Luna, Ollivander, for allowing Death Eaters into Hogwarts, being in possession of dark artefacts with intent to cause harm, unlawfully using the imperius curse..."

Harry let out a low whistle. Draco was facing the prospect of life in jail.

Harry had the feeling that Kingsley had been holding back from telling them something. His tone throughout their conversation had been light, carefully worded. His suspicions were proved correct when Kingsley glanced at the dining room door and leaned forward. He looked anguished. Harry knew what was coming next.

"All the Malfoys are being charged with aiding and assisting in the torture of Hermione," said Kingsley in a soft voice. "We know it was Bellatrix Lestrange who did it but we know they were there and that they did nothing about it."

It was confirmed then, Harry thought. He looked at Ron. He was staring at the floor, a stony look on his face. Harry knew he was remembering Hermione's screams, Bellatrix's voice...

"I..I can't imagine what Hermione must have gone through," Kingsley said, "what you both must have gone through. It makes me sick to my stomach. How has Hermione been?"

They exchanged looks. Harry wasn't comfortable discussing Hermione with Kingsley. He felt the need to protect her. They'd all dealt with darkness after the war, their sufffering wasn't public property.

"She gets on with it," Harry told Kingsley, "like all of us."

"She's tough," Ron told Kingsley. "Tougher than both of us."

"I know she is" Kingsley said, smiling. "I've seen her in action." He eyed them closely. "Who else knows about the Malfoys and Hermione?"

"Us, Bill and Fleur Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Griphook the Goblin and Dean Thomas," said Harry.

"How did you find out about it?" Ron enquired. "We haven't told anyone else."

Kingsley smiled wryly. "Well, we arrested Scabior and a few other men. The snatchers? They told us how they kidnapped you and brought you to Malfoy Manor. When we interviewed the Malfoys, they told us what happened."

Harry gaped at Kingsley.

"Wait," he said. "The Malfoys confessed?"

He nodded. "Pretty much. They told us everything. Apparently they've co-operate fully with the investigation. Well," Kingsley paused thoughtfully, "I'm told Draco took a bit persuasion. He's apparently not up to talking as much as his parents. They told us everything about their house, what it had been used for, what had gone on. We were as surprised as you. We thought we'd have to get Ollivander in early and get all the information out of him, he was at the Manor for two years. I'm told that they'll be pleading guilty at the trial to pretty much all the charges. Well, that's what their Advocate says."

Ron was flabbergasted. "Why would they do all of this?" he asked. "Do they want to go to jail?"

Kingsley shrugged. "We're as mystified as you," he said. "It's the main reason why the trial was bumped up the court listings. We thought we'd have to drag it out for months."

Harry thought about Mrs Malfoy's letter, currently crumpled in a ball in the pocket of his jeans. If Mrs Malfoy was pleading guilty to all the charges, what did she need him for? Why did she want him to meet her? From the way Ron was eyeing him, Harry guessed he was thinking the same thing.

He suddenly felt more uneasy about the meeting with Mrs Malfoy than ever before. Was the meeting some sort of trap to try and get him caught by the Ministry? What was she playing at?

"If the Malfoys have co-operated with you, why do you need us to come to the trial?" Ron asked Kingsley.

"Well, if the Ministry had agreed to implement my reforms, you wouldn't," he said. "I wanted us to copy the Muggle system. If we'd done it that way, the Malfoys would have been arraigned, pleaded guilty and then returned to court for sentencing. Your statements might have been read at court but you wouldn't have had to attend. The way we're doing it, they'll be pleading at their trial and you'll have to give evidence soon after. If they're going to plead guilty, and I think we can be certain at this point that they will, your evidence will be used by the judges to sentence them appropriately. The judges feel that hearing directly from victims and witnesses will help them dole out punishment more effectively."

"Great," said Harry, bitterly. He shared a distressed look with Ron.

There was a frantic knock at the door.

"Harry? Ron? Um, can I come in?"

It was George.

"Let him in," Kingsley said. "I think we've discussed everything."

"Come in!" Ron called.

George burst through the door. He was clutching a letter in his hands. He looked frightened.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry.

George held out the letter.

"It's from Ginny," he said. "There was no name on the letter so mum opened it...it's for both of you. "

Time to invest in an owl repelling spell, Harry thought.

"You're like Owl guy today," Ron told him.

"I'm the King of depressing mail," Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

He got up and took the letter from George's hand. Ron read it over his shoulders.

_Harry, Ron, _

_Hermione had another panic attack; a really bad one. She read the Prophet this morning and flipped. I don't want you to panic because she's going to be OK, but she told me to let you know because she says she promised to tell you if she got bad again. She'd send you a letter herself but she's in the hospital wing and I think Madam Pomfrey is going to keep her there until she gets better. _

_You're coming to Hogwarts, right? I think Hermione would like to see you. _

_Ginny  
><em>

_p.s I have a million questions to ask you both. Prepare yourselves.  
><em>

"Shit," Ron hissed. His face filled with anguish.

"Is everything OK?" Kingsley asked.

"No," said Harry, closing his eyes. "It really isn't."

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A/N: There we are then :) Next chapter we're back in Hogwarts with Hermione.

I've used Kingsley as a 'plot dump' in this chapter to outline the wizarding world's new justice system. I decided not to copy the muggle way of doing things too strictly because I thought it might restrict the plot. Our own legal system is quite boring.


	4. Chapter 4

Here we are then :) Sorry about the wait on this. I had a mental month at work and then I didn't want to post a heavy chapter over Christmas. I should have the next chapter up in the next day or so; it was meant to be included with this chapter but the word count was ridiculous. Consider this the first part of chapter four.

CW for discussions of depression, anxiety etc.

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"I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am."  
>― Sylvia Plath, <em> The Bell Jar <em>

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_The first one happened on the day of Fred's funeral._

_After the ceremony finished, Mrs Weasley had to be carried into the Burrow by her husband and Kingsley. Ron and Bill put their arms around George and walked him back to the house. Percy sat in his chair and sobbed while Charlie comforted him. Ginny slumped against Harry in her seat, her face blank, her eyes dead. She and Harry helped Ginny navigate her way through the crowds back to the house. Harry had been uncomfortable about it, she remembered, he hadn't been going out with Ginny at that point. He'd felt awkward putting his arm around her. They'd been arguing a lot the past few days. He wasn't sure whether it was OK to touch her._

_Her own parents had stood sadly beside Fred's grave holding hands. Although they'd been invited to the funeral by Mr and Mrs Weasley, they had stood apart from everyone during the ceremony. Touched as they were by the invite, they felt like they didn't belong. She'd worried about them during the ceremony. Her relationship with them was strained. They hadn't reacted positively to her when she found them in Australia. Angry, hurtful words had been exchanged; words they couldn't take back. She'd hoped that attending the funeral would make them feel more connected to the Wizarding world, more connected to her._

_The scene in the Burrow had been grim: Mrs Weasley sitting in the corner crying into Mr Weasley's shoulder, Mr Weasley looking like a broken man, his eyes fillled with pain. Bill was leading Percy out of the house because he was so upset. Ginny and Ron sat together in the corner, their arms around one another. Ron spoke in a weak, quiet voice when anyone spoke to him. Charlie and Harry sat on one of the sofas, a bottle of whisky between them.  
><em>

_All the guests had spoken in hushed whispers. The sound had reminded her of the hum of the sea. She felt like she was standing on the cliffe edge at Shell Cottage, the waves crashing against the rocks beneath her._

_Fleur had assumed the mantel of host and head of the family. She greeted guests when they arrived, said goodbye to them when they left; served coffee and tea, made extra sandwhichs when guests asked for them, took coats and placed them in the drawing cupboard. Fleur dealt with guests when it became too much for the family. She made sure nobody upset the family or asked any awkward questions. She didn't complain once. She handled herself with grace and dignity, so much so that Mrs Weasley hugged her when everybody left._

_That evening Hermione had stood in the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her skin was dry. Her eyes where large and dull. Her hair was long and tatty with split ends. She didn't recognise herself anymore._

_She'd run her hands over the scar on her arm, her finger tracing the letter 'M'._

_This was it, she thought. The war was over and this is what they were left with. This devastation._

_She'd felt it then. The quickening of her heart. The pins and needles in her arms. The overwhelming sense of fear that made her catch her breath. She thought she was dying. She slid to the floor and put her head between her hands._

_The second time it happened she and Ron were walking around the Orchard. They liked to escape there once a day. Ron liked to get out of the house when the atmosphere inside became too much. She enjoyed visiting the Orchard because it afforded them some sort of privacy; the thick bushes and trees provided the perfect hiding place.  
><em>

_"That's fine," Harry said when they told him where they were heading. He wrinkled his nose and eyed them both with disgust. "I'm totally okay with that. That doesn't gross me out at all."_

_She liked to think of it as 'their place.' They'd kissed for the second time in the orchard two days after the battle. Ron had shyly cupped her cheek and asked her if it was okay before pressing his lips to hers.  
><em>

_They'd been walking around the orchard, Ron holding her hand. He'd been telling her about his mum, how she'd been given sedatives by the healer, how it was hard to see her so upset and depressed._

_It happened out of the blue. Her heart thudded against her chest. She felt breathless. All the air was gone from her lungs. Her chest was sore. Fear and pain cursed through her. She felt like running away from Ron. It felt like her body was responding to somebody attacking her._

_Ron had calmed her down. He'd held her, pulled her close to him and told her everything would be OK. _

_They'd spent a good few hours sitting in the Orchard talking about it all: Fred, the war, Bellatrix. She'd told him about her panic attacks, how down she felt, how she felt like crying all the time. He comforted her, told her that he felt the same, that they were in this together._

_Their relationship was still in a relatively new place. They felt awkward around one another in a lovely way. It felt strange to be able to reach out and touch each other after wanting to do so for such a long time. It was still a novelty to be kissed before going to bed at night.  
><em>

_"We need to talk about stuff like this," he told her.  
><em>

_"Have we ever talked about stuff like this?" she asked, smiling. _

_"Only in a very British way. When Harry and I fell out in fourth year you asked me if I felt alright." _

_She laughed. _

_"Seriously though. We're not going to get through this unless we do it together. That's what we're supposed to do, right?" he asked, "Tell each other stuff." _

_She confided in him, but she didn't tell him everything. She didn't tell him how violently ill she was when she saw Greyback's wanted poster on the front of the Prophet. She didn't tell him about the weird habit she'd developed of counting to ten everytime somebody mentioned the final battle. She didn't tell him how she hadn't been able to sleep in weeks. It would be unfair, she told herself. He was going through his own pain. She shouldn't dump all her problems on him._

_She loved the way he looked at her nowadays; like there was nobody else in the world he wanted to be with, like he couldn't believe they were finally together. He thought she was wonder woman, the fixer of all problems, the fighter. She didn't want to ruin his image of her. She didn't want to overload him with despair and fear. He had enough of that himself._

_It wasn't a lie, she told herself. She could handle it._

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_20th October 1998_

"Miss Granger you are not the first person I've treated this year for anxiety."

She was sitting upright on one of the hospital wing beds, screens pulled around her. Madam Pomfrey was standing by her bed. She was stirring the contents of a small vial with her wand.

The Matron was smiling at her sympathetically. She avoided her gaze; she fixed her eyes on the window in the far corner of the hospital wing.

"Drink this." Madam Pomfrey handed her vial. "It'll take a few minutes to kick in but you'll feel better after."

Hermione stared at the vial of calming draught. It was the colour of a lemon. It smelt like fennel and vanilla.

"Drink," the Matron ordered her.

She downed it in one. The taste combination was bizzare. It tasted like lavender, honey and burnt toast. She felt her body relax as the liquid hit the back of her throat.

"Thank you," she said, quietly. She handed back the vial.

"Quite alright," said Madam Pomfrey. Her eyes searched Hermione's face; she looked worried.

"There's nothing embarrassing about having a mental health problem," the Matron said. "Nobody talks about it, but I don't know a single person that doesn't suffer from one."

Hermione didn't answer. She looked away from the nurse, uncomfortable with her frankness.

"Have you ever talked to anyone about what you're going through?" Madam Pomfrey pressed. "Sometimes sharing can help. There are Healers trained to deal with anxiety, depression..."

Finally, she found the nerve to speak.

"I'm fine," she said to Madam Pomfrey. The Nurse frowned at her. "I'll be fine," she said.

"Anxiety isn't something to be dismissive of," Madam Pomfrey told her. "If it's not dealt with it can grow inside you like a monster. I'm glad Minerva found you. She knew you were suffering from a panic attack the minute she saw you."

Hermione sunk further into the bed. She wanted nothing more than to go back to Gryffindor tower, curl up in her bed and black out.

Right now, she felt like an idiot; a melodramatic cry baby who couldn't cope. She remembered the looks on the face of her fellow Gryffindors as she was led out of the tower by Ginny and Professor McGonagall: pity, sadness, confusion, whispers.

'Is that Hermione Granger?" one first year had whispered.

"I thought she was tough," her friend had replied, cocking her head at Hermione.

Hermione knew it was stupid to feel like this. She remembered what the therapist had said; the one Fleur had recommended her to, the one her mother had insisted she see.

"You've been through hell," she'd said to Hermione, "why are you punishing yourself further by feeling bad about...feeling bad? Be OK with not being OK."

Hermione wished she could follow this advice. She wished she could accept that she wasn't the person she used to be, that things were different, that she wasn't OK. She'd told herself that she shouldn't feel ashamed to feel the way she did. There was nothing to feel ashamed about. Harry and Ron had dealt with demons after the war. She wasn't the only one.

She couldn't help it, she still beat herself up for feeling the way she did. She'd never been like this before. She'd always been an anxious person, but not like this. Where was the tough person who'd pushed past all her anxieties and faced down Death Eaters? Where was the confident girl who'd taken charge of the DA? Was she still in there somewhere?

She mourned the person she'd once been. Her previous life seemed to mock her. Every day she felt awful, the more she remembered her previous life. She wished she could fix herself; snap her fingers and make everything go away.

She'd been doing so well. She'd come back to Hogwarts feeling confident and in control of her anxiety. She'd tried to do all the things her therapist had recommended: getting a good night's sleep, avoiding caffeine and doing something every day that would make her happy. It hadn't worked. She felt almost as bad as she had when the war ended.

"Is Neville still here?" she asked.

"He's outside. Shall I get him?"

She nodded. Madam Pomfrey looked at her critically before walking around the screen. Hermione heard her walk towards the hospital wing doors.

Hermione put her head in her hands. Her heart still fluttered against her chest but it was becoming less pronounced. The draught was starting to work.

She wished there was a spell to control the thoughts in her head. Her brain felt crowded. She felt like she was standing in a room with hundreds of people shouting at her at once. She worried about her housemates, what they thought of her. She worried about what Harry and Ron would think when they got Ginny's letter. She worried about what Professor McGonagall thought of her.

The hospital wing door opened. Heavy footsteps approached her bed. A few moments later, Neville stuck his head around the screen.

"Hi," she said to him softly.

Neville smiled at her. He walked around the screen and sat down on the chair beside her bed.

"Are you OK?" he asked her in a low voice.

Her heart beat slowly against her chest; it felt like somebody had told it to operate in slow motion. It didn't feel like a small, angry animal was trapped inside her rib cage, begging to get out.

"I feel better," she told Neville. "I'm just embarrassed."

Neville chuckled. "Nothing to feel embarrassed about," he said.

Hermione stared at Neville, thinking. She was surprised at how calm he'd been during her panic attack. He had known exactly what do, how to calm her down and make her feel safe. She was pretty sure he'd been the one to spot that she was having a panic attack in the first place.

"Neville," she asked, hesitation in her voice, "did you...have you ever..."

He smiled at her shrewdly. He answered her unfinished question.

"When I was ten," he said, "Gran took me into Diagon Alley because she needed to buy potion ingredients. I remember the day really clearly because it was the day after the muggles set off a bomb in London, near the stock exchange tower? We were walking up Diagon Alley when Gran stopped outside Madam Malkins." Neville stared straight ahead, like he was back in the Alley and staring at the shop window. "She pointed at a Gryffindor tie in the window and said, 'That'll be you next year Neville. You'll be just like your father.'" Neville grimaced at Hermione, "Had my first panic attack in the street. Felt like the ground was going to swallow me up."

"Oh."

She wasn't sure what to say. Neville had never been so open with her before.

"I knew you were having a panic attack immediately because I've had them since the age of ten," he said. He went slightly red. "I still get them sometimes."

"You should have said something," Hermione said. "We would have been there for you. That can't have been an easy thing to deal with on your own."

Neville laughed. "Do you remember my dormitory? I could hardly sit the boys down and tell them about that."

Hermione chuckled, he was right. She thought about Ron, Harry, Seamus and Dean-the 'lads.'

"You could have told me," Hermione said to Neville, "I would have understood."

Neville smiled at her, "You're the toughest person I know. I could hardly burden you with it all."

Hermione thought about how she was feeling now. She thought about Harry, his descent into listlessness and depression during the Horcrux hunt. She remembered Ron, how the Horcrux had polluted his mind and drove him to desperation. She thought about what they had both suffered since the war.

"Even the strongest are capable of despair," she told Neville, "Trust me."

"I'm fine," Neville told her. "Honestly, I know how to handle it." He looked at her sheepishly. "Don't be mad," he said, "but Ginny,well, she's been worried about you. She told me that you'd been suffering from panic attacks. She only told me because she wanted me to keep an eye on you."

Hermione looked away from Neville, suddenly annoyed at Ginny. She'd arrived at Hogwarts secure in the knowledge that only the Weasley family and Harry had known about her panic attacks. She felt embarrassed that Neville had known since school started in September. She was glad that Ginny didn't know the reason_ why _she was having panic attacks. Thank goodness that information was only known to six people.

"We're all going through something," Neville told her, "This year is hard for everybody. Me, Dean, Seamus, Pavarti, Ernie. Ginny told me about Harry and Ron...what they've been going through. She didn't go into detail. She just said that they'd had a rough time."

Hermione nodded. She wasn't the only one who had sought help to deal with the events of the past year.

"It's just..." Neville looked awkward, "if you ever need someone to talk to...Harry and Ron aren't here and..." To her horror, his eyes flickered to her left arm. He gulped.

She self consciously rubbed her hand over her forearm where the word 'mudblood' was etched, still, into her skin. She stared at him.

"Neville..."

"I didn't mean to see," he spluttered. 'I'm sorry."

She looked away from him. She suddenly felt like running from the room.

"When you were having your panic attack," he said, "I was trying to calm you down and your shirt rolled up. I couldn't help but see..."

"I've been putting a concealment charm on it all year. I...I forgot this morning," she said, quietly. She faced him. Neville looked anguished. He was wringing his hands together.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he said. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." She knew he hadn't meant any harm. She didn't want him to feel bad.

He looked at her with uncertainty. He opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds until he plucked up the courage to speak.

"Hermione," he said, "is it..." he nodded at her wrist and gulped,"does it have something to do with the Malfoys?"

They stared at one another for several seconds. Neville looked taken aback at the boldness of his question. She could see from his eyes that he wanted an answer. He looked scared of what she might say.

Slowly, she nodded. Neville's eyes widened. He reached out and gripped her hand. Something fierce and dark flickered across his face. For a second the Neville Hermione knew was gone, his face was contorted with rage and hatred. The look frightened Hermione. There was something nasty and horrible about it.

Hermione felt like she was getting a glimpse into the Neville that had endured last year, the Neville that every student in Hogwarts now looked up to; the Neville that some students were almost fearful of. There was darkness in Neville now, Hermione realised. He wasn't the same anymore.

Just like me, she thought.

Hermione stared at her friend. His plump, boyish face was gone. His face was thin and strained. His eyes had lost their familiar sparkle.

She stared at the Head Boy badge on Neville's jumper. Everyone in the Hall had cheered when McGonagall announced his appointment as Head Boy, even the Slytherins.

She thought about the small boy who had stood up to her, Ron and Harry as they climbed out of the portrait hole to find the Philosopher's Stone. Where have you gone, she wondered.

"...really need to bring the cloak next time. Any one of them could have a camera on them."

"Think we need to learn how to turn into an Animagus. Then we can go about incognito."

"Yeah, that won't look suspicious; a dog and stag casually hanging out at the pub."

The hospital door had swung open. The voices filled the room with unfamiliar cheeriness.

Neville and Hermione stared at each-other.

"Harry?" Neville said.

"Ron?" Hermione cried.

Two heads appeared around the screen. They belonged to a dark haired man with glasses and tall red head with freckles.

"Is this a private gathering?" Harry enquired.

Neville let out a yell of delight and jumped up to greet his ex-roomates. Harry and Ron stepped around the screen to greet him. Harry pulled Neville in for a bear hug. Ron slapped him on the back and ruffled his hair affectionately.

Hermione stared at her best friend and her boyfriend with an open mouth. She couldn't believe they were here. She hadn't expected them to respond to Ginny's letter by turning up at the school. She felt such a rush of warm happiness that she was lightheaded for a few seconds. They beamed at her as she stared at them.

"Well chum," Neville said to Harry, "I hear you've swapped dark wizards for bath salts and rose wine."

Ron cackled. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Anything Gin's told you is a lie," he said, flatly.

"You should see him mate," Ron said to Neville, grinning evilly, "he takes long baths and everything. He puts the radio on and all."

"There's nothing wrong with music and a bubble bath," Harry said, trying to look dignified. "It's a perfectly respectable pastime."

"I thought you would have had jobs sorted by now," said Neville.

"It's not like we haven't been offered," Ron said, sharing an annoyed look with Harry. Hermione understood. Both Harry and Ron had been offered multiple jobs since the end of the war. Nothing had come up so far to tempt them.

Hermione wouldn't admit it to Harry, but she was starting to get worried about him. While Ron was helping George out with the joke shop, Harry wasn't really doing anything. From the sound of his letters he spent his days milling about the Burrow helping Mr and Mrs Weasley. Ron said it was hard for him to come to the shop because his admirers would crowd into the shop to get his autograph.

Hermione worried that Harry was descending back into the depression he'd suffered during the Horcrux hunt. Ginny had confided in her that she worried about him too. She said he was becoming lazy, happy to spend his days doing nothing.

"Nothing's been offered yet that we'd take," Harry told Neville. "That and we both needed a holiday."

Neville began to talk to Harry about what jobs he'd turned down. Ron glanced at his friends and walked over to her bed. He sat down on the mattress beside her.

"Hi," he whispered, his eyes peering into hers.

She let out a happy, little sigh. She felt butterflies erupt in her stomach.

"Hi," she said.

A wall of awkwardness crept up between them. Hermione felt herself go red. Ron's cheeks turned pink. They hadn't seen each other in a month and a half. They'd only communicated via letter since then. It felt strange to suddenly be able to talk again in person.

The air between them now was awkward but happy, Hermione acknowledged. She gripped Ron's hand and smiled at him brightly.

Now that he was close to her, she could see how much he'd changed over the past month and a half. He'd definitely put on a bit of weight. His face was still thin and gaunt, but it was less so that it had been. His skin was no longer pale and dehydrated looking. There was colour in his cheeks again. She noted with sadness that his eyes still had a deadened look about them.

She'd missed him _so much_. Now that they were together, it felt like an ache within her had been soothed. Writing letters just didn't make up for actually being with him, touching him.

Ron appeared to be feeling the same way. He was beaming at her. His smile was so wide and goofy that his eyes were crinkled like an old man's. He didn't bother to glance at Harry and Neville before cupping her cheek and leaning across to kiss her on the lips.

Hermione let out happy sigh as Ron kissed her hungrily, winding one his hands around her waist to pull her closer to him. Her stomach fluttered as his hand brushed over a bit of exposed skin on her lower back.

"Oh for goodness sake..." Harry's voice was exasperated. Ron smiled against her mouth.

"Hi guys," Harry said, totally deadpanned, "are you OK? Are you sure you're comfy over there? Want me to get Madam Pomfrey to enlarge the bed?"

Ron tore his lips away from her. He turned to raise his eyebrows at Harry, who was still standing beside Neville. Harry grinned at Ron. "Everything OK, love?" he asked, sarcastically.

Ron glared at him. Neville roared with laughter.

Hermione could feel herself blushing. Ron turned around to face her again, a mulish look on his face. "Git," he muttered under his breath.

She laughed and hugged him tightly. He squeezed her back, rubbing his face into her hair.

"Are you OK?" he breathed in her ear.

She pulled back a few inches to look at him. His blue eyes studied her face worriedly. His nails dug into her sides as he gripped her.

"I'll be OK," she mumbled.

Ron nodded in understanding. He looked worried.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked him under her breath.

His eyes darkened, which made her worry. He jerked his head towards Neville meaningfully-_not while he's here._

"Look guys, I better get on here. I'll let Ginny know I've seen you."

Neville was leaving. He moved backwards towards the screen.

Harry beamed at the mention of Ginny's name. Hermione knew Harry had been in touch with Ginny as often as Ron had been in touch with her. She and Ginny had spent many amusing hours imagining Ron and Harry trying to cope without them and failing miserably.

"Is Gin off causing havoc?" Harry asked.

"Obviously," Neville said. "I'll let her know where you are. I'll talk to you later guys," he said. He nodded at Ron and smiled at her meaningfully before leaving.

"Merlin he looks different," Harry said when Neville had disappeared around the screen.

"He's built like a brick shit house," Ron commented. "I look like a lanky streak of pumpkin juice next to him!"

"He's...I don't know..." Harry frowned, "distant. Distracted?"

"Sad," Hermione said, solemnly.

Harry sighed and crossed the room to Hermione's bed. "It's understandable," he said in dark voice, "given what they went through last year."

There was silence at his comment. Harry was talking about what had happened in Hogwarts while Snape and the Carrows had been in charge. There was going to be a Ministry Inquiry. Students had been tortured, abused and, if the rumours were true, had much worse done to them.

Once again the spectre of the previous year haunted them. They still couldn't leave it behind.

Harry looked downcast when he sat on the other side of Hermione's bed but he smiled

"You alright?" he asked her wryly.

Maybe it was the fact that she was with her two best friends again after so long, or the fact that Harry had brought up Neville and the horrible, horrible things that had happened last year in Hogwarts, she felt her eyes water.

"No," she told Harry. She felt her throat burn. "God what is wrong with me?" she spat, tears running down her face.

"Hermione..."

Ron moved to sit right beside her. He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. Harry slid up the bed and took her hand. Hermione wiped away the tears that slid down her face with her other hand. She felt pathetic.

"I'm sorry," she told them. "I just..." She gestured hopelessly with her hand. She couldn't find the words to describe how she was feeling: in pain, depressed, upset, happy that Harry and Ron were here with her.

"I don't know what happened," she told them. "Ginny showed me the Daily Prophet and I just...flipped. It was like that time in the Orchard again. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I thought I'd got it under control but I obviously haven't." She wiped tears away from her face, "This trial...this _everything_. I just lost it.

"It's OK," Harry told her, squeezing her hand. "If I wasn't paranoid about the Daily Prophet taking a photo, I'd probably be curled up in the foetal position on the floor."

Hermione chuckled sadly. Ron grinned at Harry.

"I haven't been myself," she said. "Ever since I've come back here I've felt...off."

"I thought you were feeling a bit better?" Ron asked Hermione, frowning at her. There was a slight accusatory tone to his voice.

Hermione didn't meet his eyes. Truth be told, she'd been telling Ron half truths since she started back at Hogwarts. She hadn't told him about her lazy attitude to school work, her procrastination, her slip into listlessness. She hadn't admitted her problems to Ron because that would mean acknowledging them herself.

In her letters, Hermione had told Ron that Hogwarts was making her feel well again. She'd made him think she was having a great time at Hogwarts, going to class and spending hilarious nights holed up in the common room with Ginny. He'd been so pleased to hear that she was having a good time that she'd stopped herself from telling him anything other than good news.

"I...I've been up and down," she said, looking down at her hands. She saw Ron frown at her out of the corner of her eye.

"I don't know what I would have done if Neville and Ginny hadn't been there," she told them, keen to change the topic.

"We're glad they were there," Harry said in a quiet voice. Hermione saw him share a dark look with Ron.

For a moment the trio sat in silence, slumped against the hospital wing bedframe. Hermione thought about how silly they must look: the Golden Trio of the Wizarding World, curled up together on a bed in the Hogwarts hospital wing. Staring at her friends, Hermione realised that the pain and shock from the war was still visible on their faces. Harry still looked drained of energy, the black rings around his eyes made him look like a panda. Ron looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept properly for months.

"I don't think I can cope with this trial," Hermione said, after a few minutes of silence, "The press coverage is going to be awful. I can't imagine standing up in front of a judge and giving evidence. I can't bear the thought of having to repeat every detail of the past year while the Malfoys look at me."

The idea of the trial terrified Hermione. She remembered the story Harry had told her in fourth year, the memory he'd seen of Igor Karkaroff and Bellatrix Lestrange being tried at the Ministry. Karkaroff had been strapped to a chair and binded with chains. Bellatrix had been placed inside a cage; chains had been placed around her feet. There had been journalists there, Ministry officials and the general public.

Hermione knew the upcoming Malfoy trial was going to be a spectacle; a show trial with her, Harry and Ron in the starring role.

Ron and Harry looked at one another meaningfully.

"The trial's the reason why we're here," said Harry. "There's something you should know."

"What?" She looked between them, confused.

Harry dug into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. He stared at it grimly. "I got this in the post this morning," he said, handing her the note.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_I would like you to meet me on the 23rd October at 9:00am in the holding cells of the Ministry of Magic. A man called Muldover will take you to my cell. My advocate will be present and you are entitled to bring your own. _

_You owe me._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Narcissa Malfoy._

She had to read the letter twice just to make sure she'd read it right. She stared at Harry open mouthed.

"Oh my god."

"I know." He leaned back against the bed and eyed the letter resentfully.

She gaped at the letter. This was unbelievable.

"What is she thinking, sending you this? What does she want?" she cried, looking between them both.

"That's what we're wondering," Ron said. "I'm worried she's going to ask him to lie for her on the stand."

"Harry wouldn't do that!" She glared at Harry. "Don't you dare do that."

Harry chuckled. "I wasn't planning to, Hermione," he said.

"This is really serious!" Hermione said, her eyes skimming over the letter. "Her letter is contempt of court!"

"Ron's dad has already told me as much," Harry glowered at the letter and looked cross.

Hermione frowned questionably at Ron. He shook his head-_I'll tell you later._

"She's insane to think you'd actually reply to this," she said to Harry, half laughing. "You should hand the letter to Kingsley."

Their reaction to her comment was odd. Harry looked sheepish. Ron bit his lip and became interested in playing with the loose threads on her robes.

"What?" she asked.

Harry took a deep breath. "I'm going to meet her Hermione," he said. "I'm going to meet her on Wednesday. Charlie's girlfriend is a lawyer. She and Percy are going to come with me. Percy's going to get me into the holding cells. Don't look at me like that...no, stop it. You can't talk me out of this. I've already told her I'll do it."

Hermione mouthed wordlessly at Harry. She couldn't believe him. _She couldn't believe him._

She was so angry that she could feel herself shaking. She felt like strangling Harry. She couldn't believe he could be so _stupid. _

"You've already agreed to meet her?" she said to him in a low, tense voice. Harry gulped.

She felt hurt, betrayed. She'd thought Harry would have at least mentioned this to her before making his decision. She'd been through everything with him. He'd nearly always sought her opinion.

Harry had the grace to look guilty. Ron looked as though he'd worried that she would react in this way. He looked between her and Harry with wide eyes.

"Hermione..." Harry began

"_I could strangle you!_ How could you be so stupid? What are _thinking_ agreeing to meet her? _Did you fall down and hit your head on something hard?" _

He sat up straight and stared at her with a look of determination. When he spoke his voice was placating and calm.

"I'm just going to meet her," he said. "I'm taking a lawyer with me and Percy. It's just a meeting. That's all it is."

"What a load of nonsense!" she snapped. "You've agreed to meet her in a locked jail cell! You've agreed to an illegal meeting. I can't _believe_ you!"

"What was I supposed to do?" he cried. "Ask the court to schedule a meeting between us sometime next week?"

"You could ignore this!" she snarled. "You could have written back to her and told her no, that you won't meet her."

"Hermione I owe her! he snapped.

"So you're going to jump at the first request she makes? What utter _bullshit_ Harry. You can repay your debt to her some other way!"

He was taken aback by her swearing. Ron looked impressed

"Do Mr and Mrs Weasley know about this meeting?"

"Yes."

"What do they think?"

Harry glared at the bed. "They take your position," he said, bitterly.

She made a triumphant noise. She knew Mr and Mrs Weasley would agree with her.

"Doesn't that tell you that you're wrong?" she told him. "Don't you think that's a sign you should call this meeting off? If Kingsley finds out what you're doing..."

"Hermione, look..."

"You're giving her too much credit," she cut across him. "I know what she did. I know you're in debt to her and I think you should repay that debt somehow but not like this."

"If she wants to call in her debt now I can't very well say no, can I?"

"Of course you can!" she cried, exasperated. "She's in jail. You're not. What's she going to do if you say no?"

"I don't know. I'm not prepared to risk finding out!"

"That's ridiculous logic!"

Harry was furious. "Oh, you know what's best do you?"

"I'm not saying that!"

_"Yes you blood well are!_"

They glared at one another. She had never been so angry with Harry before. The anger swallowed her whole. She felt like she couldn't concentrate on anything else. She wanted to scream with frustration.

She turned to Ron.

"Let me guess," she spat. "You agree with all of this. You think he should meet her."

Ron looked nervous but his expression was defiant.

"I think Harry should just get on with it," he said.

"Oh _Ron._.."

"He should listen to what she has to say!" he said firmly, talking over her. "That's all I think he should do though."

She crumpled the letter in her hand into a ball and snarled with frustration.

Her mind filled with scenarios: Harry being caught with Mrs Malfoy in the Ministry cells. Harry being sent to jail. Perhaps, thought Hermione,that was her plan in the first place.

Hermione wanted the Malfoys to go to jail. She thought about everything the family had done in the past few years, to her, to Ron, to Harry. She thought about Malfoy Manor, the hard, cold brick floor of the dining room that she had lain on while Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her.

She understood that Mrs Malfoy had risked a lot to save Harry; she hoped the court took what she did into consideration when sentencing her. She didn't think Draco Malfoy was as black as he was painted. She still thought they deserved to be punished. All she could see was the look on Mrs Malfoy's face as Bellatrix tortured her...

"This isn't just about you," she threw at Harry. Her throat started to burn, her eyes start to water. "This isn't just about your debt to her. What if she asks you to lie for her? What is she wants you to get her out of jail? Are you going to doing as she says then?"

Harry looked anguished. It had dawned on him why Hermione was so annoyed. He reached out and gripped her hand.

"Hermione, please," he voice softened, "I owe her the courtesy of listening to what she has to say. That's all. That's all I'm going to do. Please don't think..."

"Don't think what?" she snapped.

"That I don't care. That I don't want to see her punished. I do." Harry's voice was pleading. He looked agitated, desperate for her to listen to him.

She didn't think for a second that Harry wanted to see Mrs Malfoy walk free. It didn't stop her feeling hurt and angry. She felt let down by Harry. She thought he would have had better judgement.

"You're so bloody noble," she snarled at him. She snatched her hand away from his. He looked hurt and annoyed.

She folded her arms and glared at the screen in front of her. "What does she want?" She wondered out loud. "She can't possibly think you'll lie for her and get her out of jail."

"No," said Harry. "I don't think that's it. She's not stupid. The Ministry have too much evidence against her." His voice was cold. He was angry with her.

They lapsed into an awkward silence. Harry and Hermione looked away from one another, glaring at nothing in particular.

Ron coughed loudly. "I think what's done is done," he said. "There's no point talking about this any more. It's happening. There's no point worrying about something that hasn't happened yet."

She said nothing. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry glower at the bed.

Ron sighed sadly. "Are we every going to be able to just...enjoy ourselves for a few hours?" he wondered. "I don't think I mentally cope with this trial, being made to look at Malfoy's ferret face day after day."

"We have to do formal interviews with the Ministry as well" Hermione added, dreading the thought. "The Ministry has to submit our formal statements." She would have to talk to a Ministry Advocate about Malfoy Manor. The thought made her sick. She was grateful when Ron squeezed her hand.

"Fun times ahead for all," Harry grumbled.

They spent the next hour or so talking about the trial. They wondered what it would be like, whether they would be given Ministry escorts, whether the general public would be allowed to attend. There was a frostiness to the interactions between Hermione and Harry. They didn't talk directly and avoided each other's eyes. Ron spent an uncomfortable hour acting as a mediator between the two.

Despite the subject matter, and the fact that she was angry with Harry, Hermione felt comfortable and happy lying on the hospital bed with her two best friends. She could still feel the anxiety bubble beneath her, but she felt more relaxed than she'd been in a few weeks.

"What do you think you're going to do?" Ron asked her. "Is McGonagall going to let you come home when the trial starts?"

"I don't know. I have to have a meeting with her on Friday about it. She said to me earlier that it might be better for me to go home."

Ron couldn't conceal his excitement that she might be allowed to come home early. The news made him visibly perk up.

"That's...that's brilliant," he said. "I mean, obviously I'd rather you were leaving under better circumstances, but...that's brilliant!" He beamed at her. She couldn't help but grin back. The idea of going home lifted her own spirts too. She would get to spend more time with her parents and Ron. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in her own room with a good book, to go for a walk with Ron around the Orchard.

"I'll be happy when we're all back together," Harry added in a quiet voice. She looked at him. He was gazing at her sadly. She recognised his words as a sort of apology. She wasn't sure what he was apologising for-agreeing to meet Mrs Malfoy, for arguing with her?

She hated being angry with him. She knew he had good intentions in agreeing to meet Mrs Malfoy, but she just couldn't get over the fact that he had made a bad decision.

Madam Pomfrey arrived and told Harry and Ron that they needed to move on. Harry stood up. "I'll leave you two to...you know," he mumbled. He stood up, walked forward a few steps then stopped abruptly. He turned to face her.

"Hermione, I..."

She wasn't sure what he was about to say. She found that she wasn't ready to hear it.

"Harry, Ron's right there's no point us going over this again," she said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "You're going to meet her on Wednesday and I'm just going to have to accept that."

He looked upset. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground.

"I'm not going to get caught," he said, his voice firm. "I'm not going to help her family escape jail."

She looked down at her hands. She hoped he was right.

He made a movement, like he wanted to lean down and hug her, but stopped himself when he saw the look on her face. Her anger had abated slightly but she was still upset.

"I'll send you an owl when I'm done," he said, earnestly.

"OK. I'd apreciate that." She said, half smiling.

"OK."

"OK."

"I'll hopefully see you soon."

"Yeah. Maybe on Friay."

"OK. Bye then."

"Bye."

They were talking like strangers. Their conversation was stiff and awkward. She realised that they'd never really fallen out before. It was was new terrain for them. Ron looked perplexed.

Harry went to walk behind the screen. He stopped.

"I just want all of this to be over," he said to them.

"We know mate," Ron said, glancing at her.

She waited until she heard Harry leave the hospital wing before she turned to Ron.

"This is awful! What if he gets caught? What if this is some sort of trick by Mrs Malfoy? I can't believe you think this is a good idea!"

She knew she shouldn't play the what if game. The words 'what if' were a plague on her brain.

Ron gathered her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. He sighed.

"We're going to have to trust him," he said. "It'll be OK."

She nuzzled her head into his chest. She hoped he was right. She hoped Harry knew what he was doing.

"I've really missed you," Ron said in a low voice. He rubbed his nose against her hair.

She looked up at him. He was smiling down at her.

"Can't manage without me, eh?" she said.

"I manage fine without you," he said, a cocky grin on his face. "I mean obviously I can't get out of bed in the morning or get dressed..."

"Oh ha ha."

She sat up. She leaned in to press her lips against him when he pulled away. They could still hear Madam Pomfrey pattering about in the background.

"Hermione, she might walk in..."

"Can we not talk?" she asked him. There was a tone of desperation in her voice. She wanted this. Needed this.

She kissed him before he could answer. He made a noise of surprise but kissed her back after a few seconds.

They kissed for several minutes, Ron pushing her on to the bed so that he was lying on top of her. She kissed him hungrily, gripping his back as he pressed down into her. He moaned as he kissed her. He placed his hand under her lower back and lifted her so that she was closer to him. She had missed this, missed him.

He pulled away from her, breathless.

"Can I just say?" he panted, "Making out in the hospital wing? Bloody brilliant."

"Shut up," she told him, smiling. She pulled him down to kiss her again.

She forgot about Madam Pomfrey, the Malfoys, Harry, school. She forgot about everything. Right now, he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

She knew she would have to face reality when he left again.

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Guest: Thanks for pointing that out! You always miss something lol. I've gone back and had that corrected.

MadMax: Interesting. Is that how they do it where you live? As far as I'm aware, interviewing witnesses for the other side is very rare in the UK. I don't think the Malfoys solicitor would do that anyway because, as you'll see, Mrs Malfoy has something to say to Harry :)

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	5. Chapter 5

Here we are then-the second part of the last chapter. Thanks for all your follows, favs etc :)

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The walk from the hospital wing wasn't fun. He couldn't go ten metres without students wanting to talk to him, get his autograph, and shake his hand.

"Harry can you sign my potions book?"

"Can you come say hi to my friends Harry?"

"Thank you so much Harry."

He didn't resent the students for talking to him, but he felt like being alone after talking to Hermione. He was pleased when some members of the DA turned up to rescue him outside the Great Hall.

"You look like _shite._"

"Hi Seamus," he said, grinning at his former dorm mate. Seamus beamed at him.

"You didn't tell us you were coming!" Ernie Macmillan said, gripping his hand. "Let's get a pint! I'll get Nev to sweet talk McGonagall into allowing us into Hogsmeade."

"Are you_ trying_ to look like a wanker with that black poloneck?" Seamus asked, nudging him with his elbow.

Harry laughed. He had been so cut off from everyone since Hogwarts reopened. He had missed this.

"Did somebody say pint? Why wasn't _I_ mentioned?"

They all looked round. Ginny was standing behind them with her arms folded, a wicked grin on her face.

"Alright?" she asked him, winking. Harry grinned at her. God she was beautiful, he thought. Her long red hair was tied in a long plait. Her eyes sparkled as they gazed at him.

His heart swelled with pride at the sight of the Head Girl badge on her chest. He recalled the moment over the summer when she'd received the badge in the post. Mrs Weasley had burst into tears. George, who hadn't been very well at that point, had hugged her, delighted. It was first time he'd properly smiled since Fred's funeral.

Nobody deserved to be Head Boy and Girl more than Neville and Ginny. They were a controversial choice, given that they were both from the same House, but they were so well liked that people were able to forgive that injustice. Hermione had told him, in her letters, that they, along with Luna, had the respect of the entire school. "I get the impression,' she wrote, "that if Neville said to the entire school, 'Let's march on the Ministry and have a rave!' The school would probably do it."

The stories of the DA's resistance against Snape and the Carrows were almost as legendary as the stories about him, Ron and Hermione. Ron had heard customers at the joke shop talk about Ginny, Luna and Neville trying to steal the Sword Of Gryffindor. He, Harry, had heard patrons of the Leaky Cauldron talk about Luna's bravery against the Carrows. Bill had heard some of the Gringotts goblins talk about Ginny helping first year students escape from the Carrows. Mr and Mrs Weasley had been approached by the parents of the Hogwarts students Ginny had helped; they had thanked them for their daughter's actions.

Harry could see the respect Seamus and Ernie had for Ginny as they looked at her. They eyed her with deference.

"Gin," said Seamus. "Can _you_ get McGonagall to let us out to Hogsmeade?"

"I'm not staying guys," he told them. "I have to head home. Ron's here too."

Ernie looked disappointed. Seamus looked furious. "Weasley's here too?!" he cried. "Come on mate. Let's go to the pub for a bit."

"Seriously Seamus, I'm not in the mood at the moment."

"How's Hermione?" Ernie asked him in a serious voice.

Mad, he thought, at me.

He sighed. "She'll be fine," he said. "Madam Pomfrey's looking after her."

"We'd all have reacted like Hermione if we'd heard about the trial like that," Ernie said to him. "I hope she knows that we're all there for her."

"Thanks Ernie."

"Yeah,what about this Malfoy trial then, eh?" asked Seamus. "Dean and Luna have been called as witnesses as well."

Of course, thought Harry. Luna had been kept prisoner at Malfoy Manor for months. Dean had been there during Hermione's torture.

He looked at Seamus. Had Dean told him about Hermione? He hoped not. Dean wasn't the sort of person to blurt out personal information like that. Harry liked to think that Dean would keep that information to himself.

"Dean's not looking forward to it," Seamus continued. " 'Says he'll be glad to get it out of the way."

"Why _are_ you all being called as witnesses?" Ernie asked, looking between him and Seamus. "Nobody seems prepared to talk. You and Luna I can understand Harry, but Dean, Ron, Hermione..."

Harry looked at Seamus. Seamus shoved his hands in his pockets and eyed Harry curiously.

"Dean's quite coy about it all," he told him.

"Eh, about what?" he said, nervously.

"You know," Seamus said to him, meaningfully. He glanced at Ernie.

_Malfoy Manor_. Harry tried not to look alarmed. Ginny and Ernie were watching him closely.

"Dean's, eh, talked about that?" he said.

"Not really," said Seamus, "He's barely told me anything." He looked at him seriously. "Come have a pint sure, we'll have a chat about it."

"What are you both on about?" Ernie asked. "What's going on?"

"It's not my place mate," Seamus told him. "It's just something that happened during the war."

"_What happened_?"

"OK!" Ginny said, brightly, clapping her hands together. "I think we should leave the cross examination to the trial."

"But..." said Ernie, looking annoyed.

"Can you give us a moment?" Ginny asked Seamus and Ernie. "I'd like a few minutes with my boyfriend before my brother gets here."

Ernie looked like he wanted to stay and interrogate Harry but Seamus nudged him and nodded towards the Great hall. He seemed to understand that it was time to cut the conversation short.

"I'll tell Dean I was talking to you," said Seamus, walking backwards towards the double doors. "I'll get him to send you an owl."

"Give the Malfoys hell," Ernie told him. "I hope everything is ok with, you know, Hermione and all."

"Right. Thanks guys."

He waved goodbye and turned to Ginny. She watched Seamus and Ernie until they entered the Great Hall before turning to him.

"Hi," he said, smiling at her.

She said nothing. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the front doors.

"Gin, what are you doing?" He had forgotten how freakishly strong Ginny was. She was dragging him through the entrance hall like a rag doll.

"Cool your jets," she said. "Follow me."

She pulled him out the front doors and across the courtyard. People stared at them. They must make a funny sight, he thought. He could picture the Daily Prophet headline if he was caught in this position, 'HARRY POTTER CAN DEFEAT VOLDEMORT BUT HE CAN'T DEFEAT HIS PUSHY GIRLFRIEND.'

He'd probably agree with that headline, if he was honest.

Ginny pulled him behind a large statue on the far side of the courtyard. The statue was so big that they weren't visible to anyone else.

"Ok," she said, "first things first."

She pulled on the front of his jumper and brought his lips down to meet her own. He let out a noise of surprise. For a brief second he forgot about the trial, the Malfoys, Hermione...

She pulled away suddenly. He was left standing like an idiot, his lips pursed as they'd been during the kiss.

"Right," she said, brushing her hair out of her face. "You're going to tell me everything about this Malfoy trial and you're going to tell me now."

"What? Can't we go back to doing the first thing?" he asked.

"No."

"Dammit."

"Harry," she said, folding her arms. "The Malfoy Trial. Tell me._ Now._" She ended the last word on a snarl.

He felt physically drained after the fight with Hermione. He didn't think he could cope with talking about the Malfoys with Ginny.

"Gin, I'm not ready to talk about it now," he said. "I can call over later on during the week and we can discuss it then and-"

"Remember when the war ended?" she cut him off mid sentence, "remember how we had all those arguments? About how you're a noble wanker that tried to make all my decisions for me when you dumped me to go fight a war?"

"Um, Yes?"

"Do you remember how I said that a relationship between us couldn't work unless we were honest with each other?"

"Yes."

"Right. So the Malfoy trial then. Feel free to go into detail."

She leaned back against the statue and looked at him expectantly.

He gazed at her. She was mental; mental and completely brilliant. She'd managed to completely ambush him.

"Gin," he said, keen not to sound rude, "I'm really not in the mood to talk about this now. I just had a big argument with Hermione and I'd rather come back another day and talk about it then."

She ignored him.

"What does Seamus Finnigan know that I don't?" she fired at him. "Why is Dean being called as a witness? Luna I can understand, she was held at Malfoy Manor but Dean? What's going on?"

"Ginny..."

"What does Luna know about Hermione that I don't?"

"What-"

"Ever since we started back at school Luna and Hermione have had all sorts of conversations that I'm not allowed in on," she said. "Why is Ron being called as a witness? What does he have to do with it? Why has Hermione suddenly developed a fear of getting dressed in front of everybody? Why did she have a night terror a few weeks ago where she kept telling me that Greyback was going to kill her?"

Ginny fired the questions at him in one breath. Harry felt like he'd already been cross examined in the witness box. Ginny glared at him, her chest rising and falling as she tried to get her breath back. "Tell me," she told him.

They'd had this argument too many times. He kicked himself for thinking that that period in their relationship was behind them.

When he'd arrived back after the war he had, rather wrongly, assumed that he and Ginny would pick up where they left off before Dumbledore died. He'd been very, very wrong. Ginny Weasley wasn't the sort of woman to let her ex-boyfriend just waltz right into her life again. Apparently defeating one of the darkest wizards of all time wasn't an excuse for being, in her words, 'A complete twat.'

He'd arrived at the Burrow two days after the Final Battle battered, bruised and in dire need of sleep and comfort. He'd been keen to talk to Ginny, to catch up with her and talk about what had happened at Hogwarts over the past year. They'd gotten the chance one evening after dinner; Ginny had snuck them out the back door into the yard when nobody was looking. They'd walked around the Burrow's garden for a couple of hours. Ginny had told him about the Carrows, the horrific things they had done to some of the students. She told him how she'd been put under the cruciatus curse as punishment for defying the Carrows. She told him how brave Luna had been when intimidated, how Neville had helped to protect the students that the Carrows targeted.

The conversation had made him appreciate, in a way, that he had been lucky to avoid Hogwarts. He had been through hell this past year but he hadn't had to endure the horror of living under the Carrows. Ginny had told him that students had been beaten, assaulted, tortured, humiliated. At one point she became so upset describing what Amycus Carrow had done to a sixth year girl that she couldn't continue.

The conversation had naturally turned to his own "adventure." He had talked about the Horcruxes, the Hallows (though he hadn't gone into detail about the stone), Dumbeldore, Gringotts, Godrics Hollow. Ginny had gone through every emotion listening to his story: shock, horror, hilarity, anguish.

She had raised Malfoy Manor; Luna had told her she'd been held there. From Ginny's questions it appeared that Luna hadn't told her how she'd escaped from the Manor. He lied and told her that he didn't know much about it. He didn't want to talk about his own trip there. The topic brought up so many difficult subjects: Ron's departure, Hermione's torture. It wasn't his place to tell that story, he told himself. Ginny would find out eventually, he thought, she would understand why he couldn't tell her.

Ginny asked about the Forest. Like half the wizarding world she was curious about what had happened. He told her about finding out that he was a Horcrux, that he had to die. He told her about walking to the Forest, about following the Death Eaters to Voldemort, about Voldemort putting him under the killing curse. He told her about waking up on the Forest Floor, about how Voldemort had thought he was dead. How Hagrid had been forced to carry him back to Hogwarts...

He'd had to stop. His heart thudded against his chest. He felt breathless all of a sudden. The yard suddenly smelt like the Forest. He could almost feel the damp air on his neck. He felt like throwing up.

"Are you alright?" she'd asked him.

"I'm fine," he said, half smiling at her, all the while trying to swallow the bile that had risen in his throat.

Every night in his sleep he saw the forest, felt the terror that had gripped him as he walked towards his death, saw his mother's face, and saw her smiling at him before he woke up in a cold sweat.

The Forest and what had happened there chilled him to the bone. The memory of walking to his death clung to him like a shadow.

He didn't tell Ginny about Mrs Malfoy. He didn't tell her about seeing his parents; he hadn't even told Ron and Hermione. He kept the latter memory close to chest; it was the one part of his life that didn't belong to anyone. He resented the assumption that the world needed to know everything that happened to him.

Ginny had frowned at him. "You're shaking," she said.

"I'm-I'm fine," he said. "Really."

"Harry you've gone as a white as a sheet."

He'd backed away from her.

"Harry what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing. Honestly."

They'd gone back into the house; he'd hurried to the bathroom to throw up. Ginny had watched him flee up the stairs with a frown on her face.

The next day he'd tried to kiss her when they fed the chickens together. She'd pulled away from him to gape at him. "What do you think you're doing?!"

His response had been pathetic. He'd stared at her with a gormless expression on his face and gone, "Um, aren't we, you know, um, together again?"

Her face had gone red. She'd glared at him. She'd launched into a tirade about his presumption that he could just come back from the war and expect her to be his girlfriend again.

"But...we kissed...we did the thing with..."

"I kissed you before you left because I missed you and I wanted to show you that I still cared for you. It didn't mean we were back together again!"

"But, I thought..."

She'd glared at him. "Men," she spat, "You presume everything and know nothing."

"I just thought..."

"You dumped me at a funeral," she said to him, "No, correction, you dumped me at Dumbledore's funeral then you went off for a year on some adventure with my brother without telling me why. I understand why you did that, I know why you had to do that but that doesn't mean I can't be angry with you."

"Well. That's...OK."

"How can we just get back together? I know we've talked but we haven't really _talked _at all. We've barely talked about us. I don't think we're ready to get back together again."

He'd blinked at her. "Ready?" he asked, confused.

She'd gazed at him with sad eyes.

"Harry, you're not OK," she said. "You're really not OK."

"What are you talking about? I'm fine."

She'd frowned at him. "No, you're not. I saw how you reacted yesterday when we were talking about the Battle. You're not fine."

He half laughed. "I'm OK Gin, honestly."

"Ron says you aren't sleeping very well. Dad says he saw you walking around the garden last night at two in the morning."

" Yeah, so I'm having trouble sleeping. I'm hardly the only one! Your mum is up the half night these days."

"We're not talking about my Mum. We're talking about you"

"Gin, I'm not going to pretend that I'm one hundred percent but I'm OK. Stop worrying."

She looked skeptical. "What's wrong?" she asked him. "What happened? Harry you can tell me..."

"Can we change the subject?" he asked hurriedly. "This getting tedious."

She closed her eyes and stared at the ground.

"We can't be in a relationship when you won't even be completely honest with me," she said. "If you don't want to tell me, fair enough; I just want you to know that one of the reasons why I'm so angry with you is that, even though I understand why you ended things with me, I hate the fact that there's always going to be a part of you that I can't have. A part of you that you won't share me."

And with that she'd gone back into the house.

He wasn't going to be able to get away with not being honest with her now. She was going to find out what had happened anyway. She had him cornered.

He sighed. "Ok," he said to her. "I'm going to tell you some things but I can't tell you everything."

"Why?" Ginny's face went red.

"There are some things I can't tell you. It's not my place to tell."

Ginny searched his face. "Hermione," she said.

"Yes," he said. "I'm sorry. I'll tell you everything else but I can't tell you that."

There was a brief pause. "Ok," she said.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Right, remember how I told Voldemort that I'd overpowered Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Are you finally going to tell me how that came about?"

"Yes."

He started at the beginning: He told her about the Taboo. How he'd said Voldemort's name and got he, Hermione and Ron captured by Snatchers, how the Snatchers had also captured Dean, how they'd been brought to Malfoy Manor. How Hermione had cursed his face so that he wasn't recognisable.

"You have no idea how much that torments me," he told her. "How that sits in my mind when I got to bed at night."

"I can't believe Dean was captured!" she said, shaking her head. "I can't believe he was sent to Malfoy Manor."

He told her about them being brought to the Manor. How Bellatrix had asked Draco to identify them. How Draco had been hesitant to do so.

Ginny blanched.

"Wait," she said. "Malfoy...you think he recognised you?"

He was silent for a few moments. He'd thought about Draco and what he'd done at Malfoy Manor many times.

"Yeah," he said. "I think he did."

"And he...he didn't say?" Ginny looked taken aback.

"Nope."

Ginny let out a low whistle.

He chose his next words carefully. He told her how he, Ron, Dean and Griphook had been sent to the cellar. He told her how they'd found Luna and Mr Ollivander there.

Ginny closed her eyes. "That's how they escaped ," she said. "Luna told me she'd escaped from Malfoy Manor but she didn't say how..."

"We met her," Harry confirmed, grimly. "We couldn't believe it either."

Ginny looked astonished. After a few minutes she frowned.

"Wait," she said. "Where was Hermione during all of this?"

He bit his lip and said nothing.

"You were sent down to the cellar and Hermione wasn't there," Ginny said, slowly. "She was still upstairs...with Bellatrix and the Malfoys?"

He looked away from her. He could feel Ginny's eyes staring at him. When he turned back to look at her she looked pale and worried.

She gulped. "What happened next?" she asked.

He told her how he'd talked into the mirror Sirius had given him, how Dobby had appeared in the cellar. When he told Ginny that Dobby had taken him, Luna and Dean to Shell Cottage she let out a yelp.

"_That's why you were there_! Bill and Fleur never said! When Ollivander came to Murial's he kept his mouth shut about what happened!" She mouthed wordlessly for a few seconds. "I can't believe Bill knew the whole time!" she cried.

He told her how they'd fled to Shell Cottage. His voice shook as he told her how Dobby had died in his arms. She'd wiped tears from her eyes as she listened to him.

It was with a heavy heart that he jumped immediately to the Forbidden Foret. He told her, just as he'd told her family, how he'd woken up on the Forest Floor after Voldemort tried to kill him. He told her how Voldemort had sent Narcissa Malfoy to check if he was alive. He told her how Mrs Malfoy had lied to Voldemort, how she'd told him he was dead.

Ginny could only stare at him with an open mouth. She was speechless

Before she could say anything, he told her about the letter he'd received this morning. He told her that Mrs Malfoy wanted to meet him, how she said that he owed her. He then told her how he'd agreed to meet her, that Hermione wasn't happy with him.

He couldn't help but tell her about his fight with Hermione. He felt like he needed to vent to somebody.

"She's furious with me Gin because I didn't tell her. I'm worried that she thinks I want Mrs Malfoy to avoid jail. I never meant to hurt her. I never meant to upset her!"

Ginny stood up straight, put both her hands on her hips, opened her mouth and then closed it again. She began to pace up and down in front of him with her arms folded.

"That was a lot of information," she told him, shaking her head.

"You can say that again," he muttered.

She stopped pacing and turned to face him.

"What do you think Mrs Malfoy wants?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I dunno. Only one way to find out though, isn't there?"

Ginny looked overwhelmed. "What do you think?" he asked her. "Am I doing the right thing?"

She leaned back against the statue again.

"I understand why Hermione's annoyed," she told him, "but you're right. You do owe her. I think you should listen to what she has to say."

He smiled at her. "I appreciate that. I wish Hermione felt the same way."

"I'm not saying I'm happy with this," she said. "Mrs Malfoy is bad news. I'm glad she did what she did but leopards don't change their spots."

"That's why I'm taking Percy and Audrey with me."

"God I hope I know what you're doing."

She looked worried. She nervously tucker her hair behind her ears.

"It'll be okay," he told her. "I'm not going to let her push me about."

She looked up at him. There was something else in her expression now: hurt.

"I wish you'd told me all of this," she said, after a pause.

He tried not to feel annoyed, but he couldn't help it. He didn't want to get into this again. He was done arguing about why he hadn't confided in her about the Horcruxes, why he hadn't been open with her about what happened when he, Ron and Hermione had gone off together. He didn't think he could take another argument, not after the one he'd just had with Hermione.

"Ginny, I've been open and honest with you so far. There are some things I'm not ready to talk about yet."

"I understand that! I get that! I just wish you'd talked to me about this! You barely talk about the Forest. You don't even talk about with Ron and Hermione and-"

"Maybe there's a reason why!"

"That just worries me more! You say you've been honest with me but you haven't!"

She was glaring at him again. He looked away from her and folded his arms stubbornly.

The spectre of the forest made him shut down. He could feel his heart thudding against his chest.

She touched his chin and turned his face back to hers.

"You're going to have to talk about it," she told him. "I don't know what happened in the Forest but you're going to have to confront it one day."

He closed his eyes. He leant down to rest his forehead against hers.

"I just want all of this to be over," he mumbled.

He could tell that she wanted to talk about it further. He was grateful when she said nothing and wrapped her arms around him. She let out a sigh. "I know," she whispered.

He held on to her tight, worried that he might soon lose the right to touch her. He worried that his attitude towards her, his depression, might drive her away. Surely she wasn't going to put up with this for longer? He was walking on thin ice when it came to their relationship.

He wanted to be OK. Why couldn't he be OK?

"It's going to be fine," he said. "I'm going to make sure of it."

He wasn't sure whether he was saying that for her benefit or his.

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He and Ron apparated back to the Burrow. Harry glanced at Ron as they walked through the Orchard. He noted, with disgust, that Ron still looked disheveled from his goodbye with Hermione. His face was serious and worried though. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were downcast. Harry was pleased to note that Ron wasn't angry with him for his fight with Hermione. There was nothing in his voice or actions to say that he took either side in the argument.

"I hate leaving Hermione there," Ron said to him. "I hate that she's on her own."

"She'll be fine," he told Ron. "This is Hermione we're talking about."

"She's not happy," he said to her. "I've been owling her for months now and she never mentioned that she wasn't feeling well."

"Maybe she just needs to deal with it on her own?"

Ron looked at him sideways. "That's not healthy," he told him. "The Healer I saw over the summer said a problem shared was a problem halfed. I think she's right."

Harry said nothing. He didn't want Ron to know that he was guilty of doing exactly what Hermione had done.

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	6. Chapter 6

_Hello everyone! Thanks for all your lovely comments, follows, favs etc. I'm really pleased :) _

_I think it's time you all met Audrey :) _

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_23__rd__ October 1998_

It was a quarter to seven in the morning and London was alive. The streets were filled with pedestrians, buses, taxis and bicycles. School children crowded into bus stops, business people shoved each-other out of the way to get to the underground. The sky was dull and the cold air was damp. The frostiness of winter was starting to creep over the city.

The small square in East London was relatively quiet compared to the rest of the city. It consisted of a set of small flats, a number of shops and a coffee stand that was situated in the middle of the square. At this time in the morning, there was little hustle and bustle from the residents who lived there. Apart from the sound of the city, the loudest noise was the sound of the radio playing in the local newsagent.

The only two people in the square were near the coffee stand-the coffee vendor and a young black woman who sat on the plastic chairs provided for customers. There was a great contrast between the two people-while the coffee vendor was dressed casually, the woman was dressed for a business meeting; she wore a smart, long black coat, pencil skirt and heels. Her curly, dark hair was swept behind her head in a tight bun. She had freckly brown skin and was in her early twenties.

The peace and quiet was broken by the sound of the woman swearing; she'd just burned her mouth on the coffee she was drinking. As her mouth seared with pain, she spat the coffee out. The liquid dribbled down her chin and onto her freshly cleaned white shirt. Spluttering, she grabbed a napkin and dabbed her mouth.

"_Shit!"_

"You see Miss Sheppard. This is why I tell you over and over again to buy a bloody kettle."

Audrey looked up from cleaning her shirt to glare at Nellie, the vendor of the coffee stand. Nellie, an older white Irish muggle with thinning brown hair and glasses, tutted at her and shook his head. He threw Audrey a disapproving look, one a father might give his daughter.

"Nellie, I've told you before and I'll tell you again: I have a kettle. It's broken, like everything else in my apartment. My TV is faulty, my oven isn't working and my shower is broke. I have to take baths now. The tub smells of cat piss. What do you want from me?"

"You can buy a kettle for a fiver," Nellie told her. "It's cheaper than buying coffee off me."

"Yes," Audrey said with a sweet smile, "but then I wouldn't come here to listen to some of your "craic."

"You're my best customer," Nellie said, "but I worry about you. You're here every day buying coffee and lunch. Can you not cook? Did your mother not tell you how to use a microwave? Say it with me-oven chips."

Audrey looked away. Her mother was a muggle but she thought 'microwaves' were the devil.-"I don't trust anything that cooks in under thirty seconds." Her father, a half-blood, had banned microwaves from the house after his father, a pure-blood, had stuck his head in one during a visit to an electronics store.

"I tried to make pasta yesterday," she told Nellie. "I burnt the bottom of the pan and the smoke alarm woke Mrs Anderson on the bottom floor."

"Mrs Anderson?"

"You know her! The one that plays the Titanic soundtrack on repeat? I can hear it in my flat. I feel like I'm in constant peril every time I take a bath."

"You're probably the only person in the world to mess up pasta," Nellie told her, shaking his head. "You boil water and throw it in. A child could do it."

"On Friday night I attempted to make risotto."

"Good Lord."

"That's what the Landlord said when he saw the mess in the kitchen."

"Does that boyfriend of yours not cook?"

Audrey threw the muffin she'd bought a glowering look. Charlie couldn't cook. He lived on kebabs and chips.

"Charlie's not my boyfriend," she told Nellie. "He's…someone I'm dating."

"You want to get yourself a proper man," Nellie told Audrey, "a man that knows how to cook and clean."

Audrey snorted with laughter. She took a bite out of her muffin to stop herself from giggling.

"I mean it Miss Sheppard," Nellie told her, "You need to get your life in order."

Audrey rolled her eyes. She had her life in order. It might involve drinking wine at midnight whilst listening to the Spice Girls, but it was a life.

"Why is it," she asked Nellie, "that a woman who lives on her own and can't cook is seen as hopeless?"

"It's too early in the morning for feminism."

"If I was a bloke you'd be congratulating me on my bachelor lifestyle. There's no male Bridget Jones."

Nellie raised his eyebrows. He looked at her sternly.

"Mr Peterson in the deli says you came down in your pyjamas the other night to buy cheese. He says the pyjamas had pictures of cats on them."

Audrey tried to look dignified. "I was watching a movie. I had cheese cravings!" she said, like this was obvious.

"You were watching a movie by yourself?"

"Obviously. It was the last thing I watched on the TV though. I'm going to have to buy a new tape player."

Nellie rolled his eyes. "I saw you on Saturday morning walking home in the dress you wore the night before. You were wearing a Mexican hat."

Audrey gaped at him. "You saw that?" she whispered.

"Everybody saw it. It's the talk of the square."

"Dammit," she hissed, crouching low in her chair. Her eyes swept around the square taking in Nellie's coffee counter, the deli, the newsagent run by Mr Sinclair and the laundrette, which was run by Mr Singh. Apart from old Mrs Anderson they were the nosiest people in the square. They'd probably told everyone about her half drunken walk home. She cursed herself for not being well enough to apparate that morning.

While most of her Hogwarts friends would shun a place like this, Audrey enjoyed living in the square. It was inhabited by the craziest muggles one could meet. There was old Mr Patton who listened to rap music all day, the large family of ten Russians that lived two floors below her, crazy Mrs Anderson, the old man called Joseph who bred cats...there was never a dull day in the square, far removed from the highbrow bustle of Diagon Alley.

"I was at a party," Audrey explained to Nellie, "my friend Rachel was hosting it. There was tequila. A lot of tequila..."

"You hang out with some strange people."

"You can say that again. My friend Ryan got so drunk that he got out his guitar and started singing an acoustic version of Ace of Base." Audrey winced. "It wasn't pretty," she said.

"Does your mother know what you get up to?"

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her. She'd have a coronary if I told her what I got up to."

"What are you doing here so early anyway?" Nellie asked her, "You don't usually get out of bed these days til ten."

She tried not to look embarrassed. It obviously hadn't escaped Nellie's attention that she hadn't been working a lot lately.

Audrey told herself that she was like every other Advocate: broke, struggling to get cases because she was starting out. The Ministry had only rolled out its Advocacy programme a few months ago, hastily introduced as Minister Shacklebolt pressed forwards with his radical reforms. The wizarding population was just getting used to the idea of advocates, Audrey told herself, it would take a while for the concept to sink in. Sadly, the truth was that she was lagging behind most of her colleagues. The wizarding population was catching on to the idea of having a lawyer, she just wasn't getting hired.

Since qualifying she'd received a decent handful of cases, but nothing substantial. She still struggled to pay her rent. She couldn't afford to live without her parents' help. Audrey felt anger bubble within her. Her lack of clients wasn't down to her ability as a lawyer. She wasn't getting cases because she had the wrong name and the wrong face. She didn't have the connections that the other Advoates had; she wasn't pure blood, she wasn't sacred twenty-eight. She wasn't a member of an established group in the wizarding community. She was a black, half blood witch from an unknown family. Her friends represented Death Eaters and Ministry Officials; she represented the average wizard on the street. It was enjoyable work, but it didn't pay well.

Audrey had hoped that the accolades she'd received from the Minister after the war would help her. She'd received an award for helping the rebels take down Voldemort's supporters in the Ministry in May. She certainly wasn't the only Advocate to have done this but she'd been part of a significant handful of Department of Law employees to turn coat against the Ministry. She'd always admired the Order of the Phoenix. Her parents had always been keen supporters of Dumbledore. She'd tried to keep her head down during the last days of Fudge's period in office, but she'd quietly made enquiries about the Order during Scrimgeour's term. Soon enough her boss, Amelia Bones, had directed her to a witch called Emmeline Vance who had instructed her to pass the Order information on the workings of the Department of Law. Audrey, along with ten other people in her Department, had passed information to the Order for two years. They'd helped take down the Death Eaters instructed to stand guard at the Ministry while Voldemort marched on Hogwarts.

Audrey had hoped her actions would mean something to somebody. She'd been disappointed to find out that it didn't matter when it came to getting clients.

Audrey kicked herself for not passing the entrance exam to work as a Ministry Advocate (an advocate appointed to represent the Ministry alone). Ministry Advocates were paid a salary and had steady work. She'd gotten a few questions wrong on the exam; it was a competitive career route and those mistakes had been enough to fail her. She'd been told to reapply next year but the failure itself had been disheartening; she'd always been at the top of her class in Hogwarts.

In the past month she'd worked hard on a few civil claims that were taking a lot of time to resolve, tried her best to get a conveyance finished and had done one or two criminal appearances in the Magistrates Court. In the past two weeks she hadn't been in court once. No new clients had instructed her.

Well, Audrey thought smugly, until today.

"I'm meeting a client today," she told Nellie proudly. "It's a really good case too."

Nellie beamed at her. "Well done Miss Sheppard! You'll be a QC in no time!"

Audrey took a sip of her coffee and tried not to smirk. Nellie thought she was a newly qualified barrister. He thought she had a place in chambers in the city centre.

She felt a shimmer of nausea sweep over her as she thought about her meeting with Charlie and, she still couldn't believe it, Harry Potter.

_Harry fucking Potter._

Charlie's request had been so unexpected. Monday had been a depressing day-she'd spent most of it drinking tea in her PJs trying to figure out how she could make a packet of chocolate biscuits last for a week; she'd seriously considered getting stuck in to her last bottle of red wine. She'd been counting her pennies, wondering why on earth she'd decided to become a lawyer, when the owl had landed on top of her book shelf.

_Audrey, _

_This is an incredibly awkward letter to write. Have you read the Prophet this morning? Read it now if you haven't. I need your help. _

_Harry (Potter that is) needs a lawyer. To cut a long story short, one of the Malfoys wants to meet him in private down in the holding cells at the Ministry. Harry doesn't want to go alone and he wants a lawyer to come with him. _

_I know this is illegal. I'm incredibly, unbelievably, aware of how illegal this is. Thing is, Harry really needs to meet with the Malfoys. It's a long story but you'll understand when you meet him. The meeting is set to take place on Wednesday at nine in the morning. _

_Can you meet us somewhere at seven on Wednesday? It'll be me, Harry and my brother Percy. Percy works at the Ministry. He's going to help get you and Harry in to the holding cells. _

_If you don't want to do this (and I'll completely understand if you don't) let me know. I would really appreciate it if you would though. Harry would too. _

_Charlie. _

She'd spat out her cup of tea in shock. Harry Potter needed a lawyer and he wanted to instruct _her? Harry Potter?_

She'd thought about it for a moment. Charlie was right, meeting with Mrs Malfoy was illegal. Mrs Malfoy was interfereing with a witness by sending a letter to Harry. Harry was putting himself at risk of being held in contempt by agreeing to meet her. If anyone found out about the meeting it could lead to the collapse of the entire trial. She, Audrey, risked being struck off the roll of Advocates if she was found engaging in illegal behaviour.

And yet...

She'd always enjoyed taking a risk. She was being asked to represent Harry Potter. Harry. Potter. Audrey knew every single one of her friends would kill for a client like him. He was the golden boy of the wizarding world; the hero that defeated Voldemort. He was rich and he was well known. If she helped him out he might ask her to help him out with other matters. If word got out that she was Harry Potter's lawyer, more work might come her way.

She'd scribbled Charlie back a yes with a flourish. She'd then spent the rest of the day worrying that she'd done the wrong thing.

It was too late to back out now, she thought. Charlie had replied straight away. He'd told her how pleased he was. It was five to seven now; the Weasleys and Harry would be here any minute.

She felt a sense of unease at the knowledge that Percy Weasley was coming. She was going to meet a member of Charlie's family for the first time. The thought made her stomach churn.

_Charlie._

Audrey had no idea what was happening with Charlie. They were dating yes, but she wasn't sure if it would ever become anything more. Charlie was brilliant. He made her laugh, he was kind, gentle and sweet; all the things Audrey wanted in a dating partner. That sort of behaviour usually made her swoon.

Trouble was, Audrey wasn't swooning. She wasn't even slightly swooning.

Audrey didn't know what it was. She liked Charlie a lot, but there just wasn't much of a romantic spark there. She enjoyed spending time with him but she just wasn't that into it. She got the impression that he wasn't either.

She knew Charlie liked her; she knew he enjoyed hanging out with her, but she also knew he wasn't that invested their relationship, if you could call it one. Most of the time they were together it felt like his brain was somewhere else. He was distant sometimes. She could tell that he wasn't himself. He talked openly about how much he missed Romania and his dragon taming partners.

They'd been dating for a month and they hadn't had sex yet. Audrey was perfectly happy with this arrangement, she was never one to push someone into a physical relationship, but it was all very strange. Charlie would make excuses whenever she asked him to stay over at her flat and mumbled awkwardly if there ever was an opportunity for sex to take place.

Audrey knew things had been tough for Charlie. He'd been through so much: his brother had been murdered. His youngest brother had been heavily involved in destroying Voldemort's Horcruxes, his parents had suffered from depression after the war. When they'd started dating she'd blamed his behaviour on all of these things, now she wasn't so sure.

Sometimes, it felt like they were friends, not two people who were dating. She wasn't sure how she felt about it. A part of her wanted to give the relationship more time, to see if it went anywhere. Another part of her felt like telling Charlie that they should end things, to just be friends.

Now she was going to meet one of his brothers...

She hoped Charlie wasn't going to introduce her as his girlfriend or awkwardly try and explain what was going on between them. Didn't people usually leave meeting family members until they were exclusive? Didn't this meeting break some sort of unwritten rule of dating?

"You look lost in thought Miss Sheppard."

Audrey jumped as Nellie spoke. The coffee cup she was holding slipped out of her hand and landed all over her shirt and her black skirt.

"Oh for god's sake.."

The coffee vendor laughed out loud. Audrey glared at him.

"State of you," Nellie told her with a chuckle. He doubled over laughing.

Groaning she got to her feet. The coffee dribbled down her pencil skirt and on to the pavement. She could feel it running down the side of her leg.

"Nellie you don't have a..._agh_!"

Her heel caught on the side of the chair. She tripped up over her own feet and landed on the hard floor.

"Oh for fuck's sake..." She winced as her hips and ankle seared with pain. She muttered every swear word she knew under her breath.

"Erm, Audrey?"

Oh no. This wasn't happening. She closed her eyes and prayed, prayed that the voice she'd just heard was a figment of her imagination.

"Audrey?"

Audrey winced. She opened her eyes and turned around on the floor. She came face to face with three pairs of legs. Wishing the ground would swallow her whole, she slowly looked upwards to see three men staring down at her: Charlie, grinning at her; a scandalised looking red haired man with glasses that could only be Charlie's little brother and Harry Potter, who looked very confused.

"Hi there," Audrey said, totally dead panned.

Charlie burst out laughing. He bent down and pulled her to her feet. Audrey could feel herself going red. She flattened her hair and attempted to brush dirt off her skirt.

"This is Audrey," Charlie said in an overly bright manner. He put his arm around her and thrust her in front of Harry.

She couldn't help but stare at him: Harry Potter. He was smaller than she'd imagined. He looked just like he did in the press photos-black hair, green eyes, glasses, lightening bolt scar on his forehead. He looked relatively normal. She couldn't believe he was the same person that had defeated Voldemort only a few months ago.

Harry was staring at her warily. She couldn't blame him. She would have looked the same way had she come across her lawyer lying on the ground covered in coffee.

"Audrey this is..." Charlie began.

"I don't usually hang about the ground," Audrey spoke to Harry before Charlie could finish his sentence. She felt the need to explain herself. He had to know that she wasn't a weirdo. "I like to sit on seats. I don't usually wear shirts covered in coffee either."

To her relief, Harry laughed out loud. The wariness slid off his face and his body visibly relaxed. He smiled warmly at her.

"Hi," he said. "It's good to finally meet you."

"There was a thing," Audrey told Harry desperately, "with the coffee."

"It's OK."

"This is Percy," Charlie said happily. He gestured to Percy with his hand.

Audrey turned to Charlie's younger brother and noted that, unlike Harry, he wasn't smiling at her. Percy Weasley shook her hand and threw her a tight lipped smile. He glanced at his older brother irritably, as if he was annoyed with his choice of lawyer.

"Pleased to meet you," Audrey said to Percy, though she wasn't at all. It was obvious that Percy had made a snap judgement to dislike her_. _He obviously didn't believe in trying to be nice to his brother's friends. Pillock, she thought.

It was hard to believe Percy was Charlie's brother. Charlie was so open, friendly and warm. Percy was guarded and serious. The only thing marking him out as one of Charlie's siblings was his bright red hair.

Audrey had heard of Percy before she'd heard of Charlie. She remembered him from Hogwarts; he'd been Head Boy in her sixth year. Back then he'd had a reputation for being tenacious and full of himself. She remembered that a few Gryffindors had told her that he was actually quite nice when you got to know him; she saw none of this in his face. She remembered the gossip that had surrounded him when he'd been appointed as Fudge's right hand man a few years ago; it hadn't been pleasant. He was known as a hard worker, intelligent, but a pompous, brown nosing git.

"Shall we take a seat?" Charlie said to Audrey, gesturing at the chairs that sat outside Nellie's coffee stand.

Audrey sat back down on her seat. Harry, Percy and Charlie sat around her.

"Thanks so much for doing this," Harry told Audrey. "I know it's a real risk for you. I'm grateful."

"It's no problem," Audrey said. She tried not to gaze at Harry like a besotted fangirl. She couldn't believe he was actually sitting in front of her, looking at her.

"Can I get you all some coffee?"

Nellie, grinning at her, approached the table. He peered down at Harry, Charlie and Percy with interest.

"Three coffees please," Charlie said to Nellie, "and I'll have one of those muffins."

Nellie winked at her and left.

"I should probably explain why Charlie asked you do this," Harry said to Audrey. "I'm sure you're confused."

Audrey glanced at Charlie. He smiled at her encouragingly.

"Well," she said, "yes, I am. Charlie's letter was, well, unexpected."

Harry glanced at Nellie. "Can you make him go away?" he asked her in a low voice.

"Nellie?"

"Aye?" The Irishman grinned at her as he carried three coffee cups over to the group and set them on the table.

"Nellie, do you mind giving us a bit of privacy? It's just...I'm consulting with a client right now. I just..."

"Say no more!" Nellie said. "I'll go get myself some breakfast. You watch the stand." He turned and winked at Harry, "Best barrister in London this one is," he told him, "next Judge in the House of Lords!"

"Thanks Nellie," she laughed, embarrassed at her friend's words. Luckily, Harry seemed amused by Nellie. He beamed at him and grinned at her. Audrey remembered that he'd grown up with muggles. When Nellie was out of earshot he leaned across the table with a serious look on his face.

"Not many people know what I'm about to tell you," he told her.

"You're my client," she told him, "anything you say to me is privileged."

And so Harry began to talk. He told her about the war, about walking into the forest to face Voldemort, about Voldemort killing him. He told her how he hadn't died. How Narcissa Malfoy had leaned down to find out if he was alive, and asked him whether her son, Draco, was still living. He told her how Narcissa Malfoy had then lied to Voldemort and told him he was dead. He explained that Narcissa Malfoy wanted to meet him. He told her how she'd mentioned that he owed her.

When he finished talking, she could only gape at him. She glanced at Charlie. He nodded in a way that confirmed Harry's story.

"Told you you'd want to hear it from him." he said, smiling slightly.

Audrey blinked rapidly and took a deep breath. She was speechless. She could hardly believe it.

Narcissa Malfoy had lied to Voldemort. The Malfoy's had been one of Voldemort's most prominent supporters and they'd betrayed him in the end. Mrs Malfoy had saved Harry Potter's life. She'd risked everything to save her son.

"That's...I mean...wow."

She remembered the weeks following the Battle of Hogwarts. What had happened in the Forest between Harry and You-Know-Who had been the only subject anyone had wanted to discuss. All anyone knew for certain was that Harry had disappeared, only appearing much later, apparently dead, in the arms of Hagrid. Those at the Battle had reported that his body had disappeared when fighting broke out again. He'd then appeared much later to take down Voldemort.

Audrey and her friends had poured over the events of the Battle after work, during lunch meet ups and over cocktails in restaurants- how had Harry done it? How had he tricked Lord Voldemort into thinking he was dead? Had he even gone into the Forest to meet Voldemort? What powers had he used to fool him?

The answer, it appeared, was simple: Narcissa Malfoy.

Audrey felt strange sitting in the square with her now finished cup of coffee. She'd just been let in on a massive secret, something nobody else knew. She gazed at Harry in wonder and thought about the hundreds of articles that had been printed about him, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. The Daily Prophet really knew absolutely nothing about what had happened during the war. Nobody did.

"So," Harry said to Audrey, nervously, "when we get down in the holding cells I don't know what Narcissa Malfoy is going to ask me to do. That's why I asked for you. I need someone to come down with me. I don't know what I'm getting into."

"Of course," she said. She threw him a determined look. "I'm not going to let her push you around. You can count on me." She tried to sound confident and self assured. She hoped the fear and trepidation she felt didn't show.

"Great." Harry smiled at her.

She nodded at Percy. Where does Percy come in?"

"Percy's a Ministry Official. He works in Kingsley'S Department," Charlie said. "He's going to help get you and Harry in."

"You're not registered as having any clients in the holding cells," Percy told Audrey. She winced. She hoped Harry didn't think she wasn't good enough to get clients. "The story is that you're coming down to the cells to help with me with a Ministry report. Harry's going to hide under his invisibility cloak. When the guards let us into the cells we'll find this Muldover and go to the meeting."

She noted that Percy didn't sound overly pleased at the prospet of meeting Mrs Malfoy. He looked pale and worried. Audrey didn't blame him. He was going behind Kingsley's back to help facilitate this meeting.

She raised an eyebrow. "What sort of report am I helping you with?" she asked him.

"A preliminary review into the new prison system," Percy said, somewhat importantly. "It's going to be an actual report so it's a good cover story."

Audrey took a deep breath. Beneath her excitement at getting to represent Harry, she was worried about the consequences of this meeting.

"Can I ask you a few questions?" she said to Harry. "You know, just to put my mind at rest?"

"Sure."

"Who else knows about this meeting?" she asked. "Can we trust that this meeting isn't going to be on the front page of the Prophet tomorrow?"

"The only people that know are you, me, most of the Weasley family and Hermione Granger. " Harry said. "I'd trust every single one of them with my life."

"Ok. How can you be sure that this isn't a sting operation to trap you?" she asked. "The Malfoys hate you. You're the reason they're in jail in the first place."

Harry gave her a steely look. He leaned back in his chair and took a thoughtful sip of his coffee cup.

"I'm no good to Mrs Malfoy in jail," he said. "I do owe her. If she wants something from me, she's not going to screw me over."

Audrey looked at Charlie and Percy. She could tell from their faces that they were uncertain about Harry's words. It didn't make her feel any better.

Nellie came back over to the seating area. Charlie looked at his watch and announced that they needed to get going. Audrey tried to push down the nerves in her stomach.

"Is this your boyfriend Audrey?"

Audrey closed her eyes. Goddamn Nellie, she thought. The coffee vendor was grinning at her evilly, a manic glint in his eyes. She glanced at Charlie. He had gone bright red. They looked at one another with embarrassment.

"She's not..." he said, quickly to Nellie.

"He's not..." she said, hurriedly.

"We're not..." they said together.

Harry chuckled. Percy rolled his eyes.

"I'll say no more!" Nellie said, holding up his hands. "Don't see why you won't make an honest woman of her though, sir."

"_Nellie!" _she cried. She made a mental note to berate him later on. _  
><em>

"Can we go?" Percy said, loudly. He looked irritated by the banter.

"Yes," Charlie said in a stiff voice. "Let's go."

Audrey was glad Charlie stepped in, but she couldn't help but feel hurt at the tone of his voice. Was it really that bad if someone thought she was his girlfriend?

They left the square and began to walk through the streets towards the Ministry. Percy suggested finding a quiet spot for Harry to put his cloak on. He led the way, saying he knew a place near a muggle coffee shop. Charlie fell into step beside his brother. Audrey watched him sling an arm around Percy and ruffle his hair.

Perhaps sensing the tension in the air, Harry fell into step beside her.

"I really appreciate you doing this," he told her. "I'm glad you and Percy are coming. I can't imagine doing this on my own. "

She looked at him sideways. "You just faced down Voldemort," she said, "the idea of meeting Mrs Malfoy scares you?"

A dark look crossed his face.

"Voldemort was predictable," he said. "Mrs Malfoy isn't."

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AN: For those of you not familiar with the legal system in the UK...

In the UK we have two types of lawyers-Solicitors and Barristers. If you're interested in the distinction, this link might interest you . /becoming-a-barrister/guidance-for-applications/frequently-asked-questions/

For the purposes of this story, Advocates like Audrey are a solicitor/barrister hybrid.

QC stands for Queen's Counsel. QCs are like Senior Barristers. It's also referred to as 'taking silk.'

In 1998 the the House of Lords were the highest court in the UK (below the European Courts obvs). We now have an Independent Supreme Court.

So, next chapter: the meeting with Mrs Malfoy.


End file.
